


Smoke, Blood, Steel

by JJGrace42



Series: Erstwhile Universe [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Bucky Barnes After Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Tony Stark has a daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-03-06 02:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18842236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJGrace42/pseuds/JJGrace42
Summary: There was blood on her knuckles and in her throat and she thought that maybe, just maybe, the red could drown out the blue she was feeling. But it wouldn’t, and she knew it wouldn’t, because some people just didn’t deserve to be happy.OC insert/Tony has a daughter fanfic. Rated M for violence, strong themes, and language. Third part of the Erstwhile Universe.





	1. I took a deep breath (I am, I am, I am)

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter title comes from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. The title of this fic is from the poem Smoke and Steel by Carl Sandburg. This story is the third installment of the Erstwhile Universe.

"You sure bringing Bacon was a good idea?" Natasha asked, crouching down in front of Tony and scratching the cat's chin. "Danielle has been through a lot. Are you sure—"

"She'll want to see him."

Natasha smiled up at him. "Of course. Are you going to be okay?"

"Stop asking me that."

She watched him for a long moment. Then she sighed heavily and rose to her feet. "Alright. Clint, how far out are we?"

"Two minutes!" he called. "You're sure these are the right coordinates, though? There's nothing here. It's just a field."

"They're the coordinates Danielle gave us." Natasha moved to stand next to him.

"And you're sure it's her? Or that we can trust her?"

"Clint . . . ." Natasha sighed. "Don't do that. Yes, I'm sure it's her. And _yes,_ I'm sure we can trust her. An enemy wouldn't have been sending that information to us for months. Besides, a field is a terrible place for an ambush." She reached out and ruffled his hair. "Look, you're about to get your little prank buddy back. Shouldn't you be happy about that?"

Clint grunted and ducked away from her hand. "Coming in for landing."

Natasha turned and watched as Tony coaxed Bacon into his cage and closed the door. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she slipped it out.

<Spangles: Did you find her?>

Natasha smiled a bit and tapped out a response. <Landing now. I'll let you know how it goes. Any luck with Barnes?>

The quinjet stabilized as it landed and the ramp began to lower. Her phone buzzed.

<Spangles: Not yet.>

Natasha sent back a thumbs up and tucked her phone away to follow the others down the ramp. Clint shrugged, lifting his hands. "There's no one here."

Tony nervously patted his thigh, hand spasming. "There's no one here," he repeated. "Natasha, there's no one here. Dani isn't—"

"Breathe," she ordered, turning and gripping his shoulders. "Breathe, Tony, everything is—" She trailed off, gaze shifting to the two figures behind Tony and Clint. "Oh my god."

Clint whipped around, arrow already nocked and drawn. Tony froze under Natasha's hands. The smaller of the two figures lifted her hands to show they were empty. "Really, Clint?" she asked. "That's the best greeting you've got for me?"

Tony jerked from Natasha's hands and whipped around. "Dani," he breathed. "Oh my— Dani."

Some semblance of a smile flickered around the girl's tired face. "Hey, Daddy. Clint. Nat."

Natasha glanced at the man standing hunched next to Danielle, but it was the girl's behavior that quickly drew her attention back. Danielle was gripping the man's—Winter Soldier, Barnes, oh god, Steve's friend was here—sleeve with an unblemished hand. Which was impossible, really, because Danielle's hands—and arms and, in the case of her right side, shoulder—were marred with burn scars from breaking Loki's portal. She frowned and identified at least three hidden weapons on the girl's body and then eyed the way Danielle's gaze kept flicking around as if she was waiting for a weapon to be pulled. There was something too tight and worried at the edges of her eyes.

Natasha smiled and reached out a hand, pausing when she saw the way Danielle's entire body flinched away and Barnes shifted protectively. She pulled her hand back. "Hey, Kroshka. Long time no see."

"Hey, Nat." Danielle's grip tightened on Barnes's sleeve. "So . . . we going or not? Last I ate was an hour ago and I'm already starving. There's food on the quinjet, right?"

"Ye—" Tony caught himself and cleared his throat. "Yeah. I, uh, and Bacon. I brought Bacon."

"Your cat?"

The new voice made Tony flinch back and they zeroed in on Barnes. Danielle grinned up at him—a full and confident expression, completely different from the cautious smile she'd given them—and she nodded. "My cat," she confirmed. "I, uh . . . . I've missed him," she murmured. "I can't remember how long it's been since I've seen him, really."

"Lie. You never forget a number."

"Shush. Let me have this." She cleared her throat and refocused on Natasha. "If he can't come, I'm not going. We're clear on that, right?"

Clint shifted from his spot to Natasha's left. "And if we say no?" he asked, voice a picture of pure curiosity. "Exactly how would you two get away before we do anything?"

Danielle's smile tightened, as did her grip on Barnes's sleeve. Then there was a flash of blue and the two disappeared from right in front of them. Natasha's eyes widened, but she was interrupted before she could say anything.

"Does that answer your question, Tweetie Bird?"

Clint whirled around to find Barnes and Danielle standing there. "Tweetie Bird? Really? The nicknames are bad enough from Tony."

"I've got almost two years of teasing to catch up on," she pointed out. "Now. We good?"

Natasha glanced at Tony, who was pale and hands were still shaking. She nodded. "We're good. He can come. Snacks are inside. Go on up. Clint?"

"Right." Clint eyed Barnes and nodded. "Let's go. There's the standards packed, but if you're nice I'll let you share my Skittles."

Natasha turned fully towards Tony. "Hey," she murmured. "Breathe. You saw her, right? She's okay."

He nodded. "I— She is. She's okay. Natasha, but I—"

"Give her time." Natasha reached out and took one of Tony's trembling hands in hers. She gave it a hard squeeze. "Give her as much time as she needs, because all that matters right now is that she's safe and we're bringing her home. You understand?"

He nodded again. "Just . . . give me a moment."

"Of course." She pulled back and slipped out her phone, returning to her conversation with Steve.

<Picked up Danielle. :) >

She waited until she saw the read receipt from him and then added, <Barnes is with her. Return to the Tower.> Then she put her phone away and gave Tony a nudge to start him up the ramp ahead of her.

She stopped short and listened absently as the ramp closed. Clint glanced back from his spot in the pilot's seat and gave a helpless shrug. Danielle was sitting in front of Barnes, who was cuddling Bacon in his lap. Natasha crouched down next to her. "Everyone getting along just fine?"

Danielle hummed a confirmation and Barnes looked up at her hesitantly. He cleared his throat. "Sorry for trying to kill you."

Danielle snorted. "Oh my god. You're actually—" She snickered. "That's the most weak-ass apology I've ever heard in my life."

"Language," Natasha murmured. "And don't worry about it, Barnes. Most people I know have tried to kill me or I've tried to kill them. It's a common theme in my life."

"Would you look at that?" Danielle said, shooting Barnes a grin. "She actually genuinely accepted that weak-ass apology."

"Shut up," he growled, but Natasha studied the way his lips twitched into a faint smile. When she glanced back at Danielle, she could see the clear fondness in her eyes.

Natasha pushed herself back up to her feet and stepped back to join Tony where he was standing. She dropped her voice low enough that he would barely be able to hear her. "Tony, I think—"

"I think I have to let you know that I can hear you," Danielle said, not looking back. "And since whatever you're about to say is probably something you want to keep private, I'd say keep it until you can talk about it comfortably where I can't hear." Then, she did look up at them. "I don't want my old room. I want my own suite." She gestured to Barnes. "We can share. But I don't want my old room."

Natasha heard Tony catch his breath a little and she forced herself not to look at him. She smiled. "Of course. We'll put you two in the guest apartment for now." She slipped an arm around Tony's shoulders and steered him towards the cockpit. "How long, Clint?"

"A couple hours. Go ahead and settle in.”

* * *

 

"Anda mengabaikannya." [You're ignoring him.]

She opened her eyes to stare up at him for a moment. Then she closed them again and shifted the way she was resting against him. "Tidak, bukan aku." [No, I'm not.] She reveled in the silence for a moment before feeling Bucky tap her forehead. When she looked up at him again, he gave her a pointed look. Danielle ground her teeth. Bacon shifted in his spot on her stomach, lifting his head to peer at her curiously. "Later." When Bucky's gaze just hardened, she hissed, "I promise."

That seemed to satisfy him, because then he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Danielle glanced towards the cockpit and the people there weren't fast enough to look away before she noticed them staring. Natasha was the only one that kept her gaze, deliberately making it clear that she was studying her before finally turning away.

Danielle sighed and closed her eyes again, murmuring, "Actually, on second thought—"

"You promised."

She groaned. "I really should be more careful with my promises."

"I think you promise things an adequate amount."

Danielle sat up and glared at him. Bacon squeaked and scrambled away. Bucky reached out and caught him, dragging the cat into his lap. Danielle huffed. "Fine. When we're back at the Tower."

"First thing?"

She swallowed thickly. "I— Yes. Fine."

"I'll know if you don't."

"I know you will. We're coming in for landing." She shifted and curled her arm around his. "Hey, question."

"Hmm?"

"Are you gonna be okay? Big, loud Tower in big, loud New York? You're gonna be okay?"

"I'll let you know if I'm not."

Danielle pulled back from him and pushed herself to her feet as the quinjet landed. As Bucky started coaxing Bacon into his kennel, she glanced towards the front just in time to see the three of them hurriedly snap their gazes away again. She rolled her eyes and glanced at Bucky. "I'm gonna go in. I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

And then she flickered away to outside the quinjet. She heard the ramp starting to lower behind her and she slipped away into the elevator. "Workshop."

"Of course. And may I say that it is a pleasure and a relief to have you back."

She caught her breath. "I— It's good to hear your voice again, J," she rasped. "I've missed you. How, uh . . . . How's Dad been?"

"He has been, for lack of a better word, distraught. I do believe that your return will be beneficial for his health, both physical and mental. Perhaps he'll start eating at least a full meal a day again."

She swallowed. "Right. I'll work on that. Thanks, J."

The elevator opened and she stepped out. "New code?" she asked, pausing at the entry to the workshop.

"Your entry code remains the same."

"Of course it does." She typed it in and then carefully entered the workshop. As the lights came on, she glanced across the mess of projects in the room. Danielle sighed. "Oh, Dad."

Excited beeping caught her attention. Danielle whipped around and grinned. "DUM-E! Butterfingers! U!" She dropped to her knees and began running her hands over them, re-familiarizing herself with their mechanics. "Oh, I've missed you three."

DUM-E's claw picked at her beanie, knocking it askew. She reached up and gently pushed his appendage away before taking off her beanie. She was in the midst of combing her fingers through her hair to fix it when the door opened. Danielle hurriedly jammed her beanie back on her head and whipped around to her feet.

"Dad."

He stood still in the entryway, one hand still holding the door open. Tony's tired gaze flicked across her. "Dani," he said quietly, so quietly that she wasn't sure she'd be able to hear him without the serum.

She took a nervous step back and shoved her hands in her pockets. "I, uh. J says you haven't been taking the greatest care of yourself. Sounds like I shoulda come back sooner, huh?" Danielle attempted a playful grin but knew that it fell flat, far from amused and far more agonized.

Tony finally stepped fully inside and let the door close behind him. "You, uh, you had the option?"

Danielle flinched. "For the last five months, yeah. I had the option."

"Barnes wasn't stopping you?"

She frowned. "I— No. Not at all. He, uh, he wanted me to come here sooner. I just—" She broke off and glanced down at where DUM-E was inspecting her left ankle. She sighed and leaned down, slipping the small handgun out of her sock and then presenting her ankle for DUM-E to get a clear look. Danielle started nervously, habitually, dismantling the gun as she spoke. "I didn't want to, okay? I have my reasons. I think they're good and logical reasons, but he, uh, he doesn't agree." She groaned. "Look, the point is I'm finally here because of him. And now. Now? Now I regret not coming back sooner." She smoothly slid the pieces of the gun back in place and then started taking it apart again.

"But why—" Tony paused, seemed to second guess his question, and adjusted. "He wanted you to come back?"

"Course he did." She reassembled the gun and stared down at it, frowning. With a sigh, she tucked it away into her waistband. Danielle forced herself to meet Tony's gaze straight on. "I'm sorry that I left. I really didn't want to go."

"I figured," he mumbled. "And I'm sorry I never found you. I really tried."

"I know." Danielle jerked her hands out of her pockets and nervously started wringing them. "Um, can I— I mean, if it's okay— You see— I just— I'd like to—"

"Can I hug you?" he interrupted, voice lost.

Danielle caught herself. "Yes," she mumbled. "Yeah, that's what I was trying to— Yes. I'd like that."

Tony stepped forward and it took everything in her to stay put and not flinch away. He slid his arms around her middle, his touch light and loose. Danielle lifted her hands, not quite sure what to do with them. His hands shook against her back and his gaze flicked to the side. Just as he started to pull back, Danielle felt her heart jump and she dropped her arms around him, letting her head fall forward against his shoulder. "I missed you," she whispered.

At that, his hold on her tightened almost harshly and he tucked his head down against hers. "I love you. I love you. I won't let anything ever hurt you again, do you understand?"

Danielle closed her eyes and swallowed down the urge to point out that he couldn't promise that. That he couldn't know. Instead, she bit her lip and leaned into him.

"Sir, I am terribly sorry to interrupt."

Danielle jerked away from her father and looked up at the ceiling, having to stop her hand from where it had jumped to the gun in her waistband.

"Wilson and the Captain have returned and are waiting on the common floor. Sergeant Barnes is refusing to leave the guest suite without Danielle's accompaniment."

Danielle bent down and returned her gun to its spot at her ankle. "I'll get him and meet you on the common floor." Keeping her gaze down, she moved towards the door. "Don't worry, DUM-E. I'll come back to visit you later." Without looking back, she slipped out of the room and across to the elevator. "Guest suite, J."

"Of course."

As the elevator started moving, Danielle leaned her head back against the wall and let out an exhausted sigh. Groaning, she started pacing the small space back and forth and back and forth until the elevator stopped and slid open. She straightened and grinned at the man waiting there. "Ready?"

"Like hell I am," he muttered, stepping in next to her. He eyed her for a moment as she asked JARVIS to take them to the common floor. "Good," he murmured. "You talked to him."

"I promised you." She reached over and hooked her fingers in his shirt sleeve. "We're . . . gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't know."

"Are you ready to see Steve?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not gonna leave your side, okay? Oh, unless there's something sweet in the kitchen. I could really use some sugar."

He rolled his eyes and gave her a tired, fond smile. "Nell," he said. "You're terrible."

"Tell me something I don't know."

The elevator doors slid open. Danielle caught her breath, staring at the crowd of people that paused their conversation to look up. She glanced at Bucky, and he was equally still. Sighing, she tugged on his sleeve and then released him, stepping forward. "Steve," she greeted, shoving her hands in her pockets. She flicked her gaze to the man standing next to him. "You must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you. Did you ever get that steering wheel replaced?" She stepped out and forced herself to hold out her hand to him.

He squinted at her. "You know . . . you don't _have_ to shake my hand. Not if you don't want to."

"Oh, god bless you," she breathed out, yanking her hand back into her pocket. "I think we'll get along just fine. And to think that he called you a stuck up, prissy ass bitch."

"I did _not,"_ Bucky said firmly, stepping up next to her. "That was you yelling at Andi Dorfman when you were watching The Bachelorette and crying into thirteen bags of Reeses Pieces."

"Oh, right." She wrinkled her nose. "Not my proudest moment."

"Honestly, I preferred the Bachelorette binge to the Desperate Housewives one. Or the Jersey Shore one. You really need better taste in reality TV."

She glanced at him. "Winter, there isn't any _good_ reality TV. That's the beauty of it."

"His name isn't Winter."

The new voice made her snap to attention and she had to forcibly jerk her hand away from her gun. She glanced at Steve, who was frowning at her. "I know that," she said evenly. "But I didn't exactly have the luxury of getting to call him by his real name while Hydra was watching, did I?"

"You have that luxury now."

"I don't want it," she said stiffly, hackles rising. "Do you have a problem, Rogers?" She balled her hands into fists.

"Nell," Bucky cut in. "You're sparking."

She glanced down at her hands to see the blue dancing between her knuckles. Danielle forced a deep breath and loosened her grip. "I need sugar," she muttered. "Also, carbs. And protein. Basically, I need to eat anything and everything that's in the kitchen."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Well, no one is going to stop you, Kroshka."

"Good, good." She flickered away to the kitchen and ignored the squeak of surprise from Sam. Danielle began digging through the pantry. "Ooh, pop-tarts. Winter, you want anything? Oh, never mind. Catch!" She turned and tossed him the box of Ritz. "Look, there's peanut butter too! Your favorite snack."

He caught the jar or peanut butter as well. When she tossed the knife, Bruce let out a squeak. "Okay, a little dangerous, I think," the man said, nervously turning his glasses over in his hands.

"It's fine." Danielle scooped up a few more snacks and flickered back over to the couch. She sat down and ripped open the box of pop-tarts. "How've you guys been doing with the Hydra files I've been dropping off? I heard you took down at least one base with information I gave you." She shuffled to the side to make room for Bucky as he sat down next to her.

They turned to face her and Natasha crossed her arms. "We did fine with that info. Brought in some Hydra agents we learned about from it, freed a few of their captives, located some—"

"Oh! Right, hold on." Danielle dug through her pocket. "The place we just took down has a morgue full of mutants they killed and collected for dissection and study." She held out the paper.

Natasha took it and glanced across it. "Some of these are missing persons we've been looking into. This is good."

"Of course it is. Ooh, gimme," Danielle said, leaning over and stealing a cracker from Bucky. "Question!" she said loudly, leaning back and munching on her snack. "Can I borrow someone's phone to get some donuts delivered?"

Tony shifted. "I, uh, I have some work to finish in my shop. I'll, I'll see you guys later."

Bruce glanced at him and frowned. "Right, of course, our project. Let me." He shuffled after him.

Natasha eyed her for a long moment and then nodded. "We're talking later. Alone. Do you understand?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No."

Danielle shrugged, dropping her gaze away. "Alright, then. I'll stop by your apartment tonight."

"Good." Natasha folded the paper up. "I'm going to go look into these names." She moved to the elevator and then paused. "Steve?"

Steve hesitated before quickly retreating after her.

Clint grinned. "Okay, I have so many cartoons for you to catch up on. Where do you want to start? Phineas and Ferb?"

"Ooh, let's start from the beginning. Winter's never see it." She shifted closer to Bucky to give Clint room to sit down. As he did so, he grabbed Sam and yanked him down onto the couch as well.

"I, I don't think this couch was meant to fit four people," Sam pointed out. "I—"

"Shush," Clint ordered. "JARVIS?"

"Of course, Agent Barton."

Danielle pressed up against Bucky's side in order to get some room between her and Clint. The latter glanced at her and gave her a small smile before shifting closer to Sam, who immediately started clamoring for some personal space. Danielle leaned her head against Bucky's shoulder. "You know," she whispered low enough that she knew only he could hear. "I think I'm gonna be okay."


	2. I'm not ashamed (I'm not sad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Chéri by Colette.

Sam excused himself from the cartoon marathon around nine, citing that he hadn't actually eaten dinner yet and he was, quote, "hungry, dammit." Clint lasted a few minutes after that before he disappeared into the vents without a word. Danielle saw him go but knew better than to call him out on it. So instead, she let the episode play out to completion as she snuggled herself firmly into Bucky's tight grip. As the credits rolled and the TV automatically cued up the next episode, she quietly said, "Turn it off, J."

Without a word, JARVIS turned off the system. Bucky shifted and dragged his hand up to remove her beanie. "You have to talk to Romanoff," he murmured just before he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. He moved to get her up.

She clung to him like a deadweight, doing her best to keep him down on the couch. "I don't want to. She's going to ask me _questions."_

"You can tough it out."

"I don't want to," she said again.

He sighed and abruptly stood up. Danielle fell with a squeak, but flickered before she could hit the cushions and landed awkwardly on her feet in front of him. He held out her beanie to her and gave her a stern look. "You said you'd talk to her."

"Another stupid decision of mine," she grumbled, taking the beanie and pulling it on. "Stay up for me?"

"Course. I'll ride with you to her floor." He pushed her ahead of him to the elevator and then scooped down to pick Bacon up from where the cat was stepping between his feet. "You know that you don't have to tell her anything you don't want to."

"You clearly don't know Nat at all," Danielle said dryly. Then she glanced up. "Natasha's floor, J." She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to face the way Natasha would take one look at her and know _everything_ and oh god, she was gonna hate her.

"She won't hate you."

She glanced at Bucky and swallowed thickly. She must have been talking out loud again.

"You were. And she won't hate you," Bucky repeated. "And if she does, then her opinion shouldn't matter at all."

"That's sweet," Danielle said, smiling at him. "Woefully naive, but sweet." And then the elevator doors slid open and she stepped out. She gave him a nervous sort of salute and watched as the elevator closed again and left with him. She shoved her hands in her pockets and wished that she didn't hear the door open behind her.

"Come inside," Natasha said, voice soft. But despite that, the command was obvious.

Danielle turned and forced a carefully crafted smile. The way Natasha's gaze hardened made her immediately drop it. She hunched her shoulders. "Right." With that said and done, she shuffled inside. She stopped by the door and waited. When Natasha pointed at the couch, Danielle obediently moved and sat down. She shifted anxiously, staring straight ahead at the framed letters and crayon illustrations littering the wall. Somewhere behind her, water ran and metal clicked.

She knew she wouldn't be able to hear Natasha's footsteps, so instead she relied on the woman's heartbeat to tell where she was. It was the only reason she wasn't surprised when Natasha suddenly appeared beside her, sitting down with a large bowl of water in one hand and a stack of cloths and a towel in the other. The redhead eyed her for a moment. "You'll make this easier for both of us if you undress."

Danielle swallowed. "Nat, I know what you're doing," she mumbled. "I just . . . . I don't—"

"I want to see what they did to you, Kroshka. I need to help. You don't have to tell or show anyone else, but what's the point of hiding it from me when I already know?"

Danielle met her gaze head on and Natasha must have seen the question there, because she looked disappointed. "You had scars on your hands long before you disappeared. And yet you hid them along with whatever else you're trying to keep from us."

Danielle looked down at her hands, which she'd spent a long time during her two hour routine that morning hiding along with the rest of her scars. "Oh," she murmured. "I didn't think about that."

"Obviously."

And then Natasha waited and didn't say anything else. Danielle eyed her, turning the fact over in her head that this was _Nat._ She bit down on her lip harshly—harshly enough that she tasted iron—and tugged her shirt off over her head. Some of the anxiety in her gut uncurled at the way that Natasha kept eye-contact instead of studying Danielle's marred skin. She stood up and toed off her shoes before tugging off her jeans. She wasn't sure if it was compulsory or just a way to stave off the conversation a moment longer, but she carefully folded the shirt and jeans up and placed them on the ground.

"Sit," Natasha ordered. Once she'd done so, Natasha held out her hand expectantly. Danielle twitched and then the anxiety was back full force. She didn't move for a long moment and Natasha just waited again, as patient as ever. Finally, she reached out and placed her hand in Natasha's. The redhead nodded approvingly, dipped a cloth in the water, and began gently scrubbing away the makeup on Danielle's skin.

"Your name is on the list you gave me." The words were quiet, but firm. Expecting an explanation.

Danielle moved to tell her that she didn't know why. Or that it been a trick of paperwork to get her inside. That they'd made a mistake. She opened her mouth to say just that, just one of those explanations.

"I can't die."

That was definitely not what she meant to say. Danielle snatched her hand back—she resisted the urge to scowl at the bared, burned skin—and shrank into herself. But she didn't leave. It was too late for that. And she could _feel_ Natasha's gaze burrowing into her, calculating. And then, finally . . . .

"Hand."

Danielle quietly gave Natasha her hand again and let her return to washing away the makeup. Natasha started humming something and occasionally Danielle caught whispers of Russian, though she didn't recognize the song itself. When she switched to cleaning off Danielle's left arm, Natasha finally said, "Anything at the base that will let anyone else know you died?"

"I—" Danielle jerked in surprise and looked up to meet Natasha's steady gaze. "You aren't going to tell?"

"I don't see why I should. Answer the question."

"I, uh." Danielle thought back. "I had a toe tag that I took off and I think my door was labeled?"

"I'll make sure I make it to that room first and clear it."

Danielle turned her hand so that she was gripping Natasha's. "Thank you," she whispered.

Natasha hummed in response and then held out a newly dampened cloth. "Where else?"

She forced herself to take the cloth and start scrubbing away at the other covered scars—her neck, her thighs, her face. Natasha just sat silently, waiting for her to finish. Finally, Danielle held it out to her and turned. "Right shoulder blade," she mumbled.

Natasha nodded and braced a hand against the back of Danielle's neck as she worked. She didn't say anything ask she uncovered the burn, but Danielle could hear the way her heart rate picked up just a touch. Then the cloth moved away and gentle fingers pulled away the beanie and started combing through Danielle's hair. "Oh, Kroshka," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

Danielle sat stock still for a long moment, gaze fixed on her hands. Her eyes burned but she refused to let her tears fall. "It's fine," she tried to say. Instead, what came out was more of a pained mumbled. Natasha's hand paused.

"Get some sleep," the Russian ordered, releasing her and leaning down. She picked up Danielle's clothes and held them out to her. "You need it."

Danielle nodded and carefully started clothing herself, focusing on not allowing her hands to shake. Then she took the beanie the older woman was holding out. "Thank you."

"Of course. And Danielle? You can hide them, wear long-sleeves, makeup, turtlenecks. But I don't think you should."

Danielle glanced at her and managed a smile. It wasn't confident or big, but at least it was real. "I'll keep that in mind." Then she flickered away into the hallway. Danielle hit the elevator call button repeatedly, tapping her foot in rhythm to it. When the doors slid open, she hurried inside. "Non-stop to the guest suite, J."

"Of course, Danielle."

She rubbed at her aching eyes and took a long, deep breath to steady her nerves. "Who else is on that floor?"

"The floor is shared with Wilson, as he's never gained his own floor after moving into a guest suite."

"Is he up?"

"He is asleep."

"Thanks." She stepped out as the doors opened. JARVIS directed her across to the right door. She slipped inside and turned as she closed it, leaning her head forward to rest it against the door. She could hear a familiar, steady heartbeat and so she didn't flinch when a strong hand pressed against her back.

"Well?"

Instead of answering, Danielle turned and—keeping her eyes downcast—pressed herself into his chest. His arm curled around her protectively and his other moved to her neck, where his warm fingers grazed over the scar encircling it. "C'mon," he murmured, tugging her forward and leading her farther into the apartment. Danielle followed him dumbly and stood absently in the bedroom while he dug through the closet for some clothes. He came up with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Danielle took a long, shaky breath. "I'm not crying."

Bucky paused and pulled back to study her. "No, you're not," he acknowledged. Then he moved forward and helped her out of her clothes and into the set he'd found. "C'mon, in bed," he said. She stumbled obediently towards the bed and let him pull the covers up over her after she laid down. "You gonna be okay?"

"I have no idea.”

* * *

 

He awoke to the sound of a loud thud. Bucky slowly sat up, carefully pulling his gun out from where it sat under his pillow. He paced silently to his door and listened. He couldn't hear anything. He stepped out, gun up, but there was no one there. He moved around the suite, listening, and honed in on shuffling in Danielle's room. He relaxed a bit and lowered his gun, opening her door.

"Nell?"

She didn't pause in her work, twisting from where was was lying flat just inches below the ceiling as she ran over the same spot again and again with the pen. "I didn't mean to wake you up. Lost control for a second and fell, that's all."

He reached over and turned on the light, murmuring a gentle apology when Danielle flinched at the sudden brightness. He frowned at the drawings all over the walls—some blueprints, sketches of machinery, outlines of people from Hydra, or people in the Tower, but all blank faces. "What's going on?"

"I couldn't sleep. And I couldn't do this in the hotel rooms."

"You could have bought a sketchbook."

She hummed noncommittally at that and floated a few inches to the left to lengthen the hallway in the blueprints she was drawing. Bucky squinted at it and vaguely recognized it as one of the bases they'd invaded. He frowned at the X she then scribbled out in the middle of the hallway. "What's that?"

"Dead person," she said simply. "I'm making sure I can give full blueprints for when everyone goes to get the mutant bodies."

"And that requires . . . marking the corpses of people we killed."

She glanced at him and the clicked the pen. Her eyes had a blue shine and it flickered and she dropped to the floor with a squeak. Danielle quickly caught herself on her feet and cleared her throat. "I'm hungry. Breakfast?"

His frown just deepened and he didn't move from his spot in the doorway. "It's two in the morning."

Surprise flicked briefly across her face. "Oh. Is it? Huh." She twirled the pen in her hands, staring down at it curiously like she wasn't sure how it'd gotten there. "I'm hungry, though."

At that, he nodded and stepped aside, reaching out for her. His metal hand curled around her waist and he guided her out to the kitchen. "How long did you sleep?"

"I didn't. Is there fruit? Ooh, there is." She held out a hand and a blue haze formed around the banana just before it shot to her hand.

He chuckled. "You're going to get lazy if you keep doing that."

"I doubt it. Actually, I think I . . . I want to go to the gym."

Bucky studied her for a moment and then nodded. "Okay."


	3. Yesterday’s (you can’t get it back)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurty.

Around five in the morning, Tony finally fully gave up on the idea of sleep and stared blankly up at the ceiling. "JARVIS," he said softly. "How did Dani sleep?"

"Unknown, Sir."

Tony sat up in alarm. "Unknown? What do you mean unknown?"

"I am unable to access the guest suite and my ability to convey any information about Danielle has been removed."

"Wh— How? Why? _Who?"_ He scrambled up from the bed. "JARVIS, when did this happen?"

"Yesterday. I am unable to pinpoint the exact time my code was altered."

"Shit!" Tony tripped across his bedroom and out the door to the penthouse. "J, are you able to tell me at all where Danielle is?"

"It seems that I can share that information as long as she approves."

"Do it, dammit!" He struggled into a pair of jeans and them stumbled out into the hallway outside the penthouse. He hit the elevator call button and then started tapping nervously against his arc reactor.

"Danielle has approved me to share that she is with Sergeant Barnes in the gym," JARVIS said as the elevator opened.

"Take me there," Tony gasped out, stepping inside. "What's going on?"

There was another pause, longer than Tony was comfortable with. Then the AI said, "Sergeant Barnes is reading. Danielle is completing her thirty-second mile."

"Thirty—" Tony momentarily lost the ability to breathe and he pressed his hand harshly against the arc reactor to remind himself that it was there. "How?"

"Unknown. My permissions to scan and study Danielle's vitals have also been removed."

"Shit." Tony ran his hands through his hair in a poor attempt to calm it and himself. The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out. He glossed over where Barnes was sitting on one of the benches by the treadmill, focused on a book in his hands, and instead honed in on his daughter.

He wasn't sure why the treadmill even had a setting that fast but, as he watched, Danielle touched the panel and the speed slowed. Eventually, she settled on a slower jog. She glanced at him and there was something wary in her gaze and—

Oh, god, she hadn't looked like that the day before. Tony tried his best to keep his expression hidden, but he knew that some of his anguish slipped through when Danielle reacted by stopping the treadmill. She turned fully to face him, shoving her hands in the pockets of her shorts and bowing her head. "Hey," she greeted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see Barnes watching, tense. Tony swallowed. "Hey, sweetheart," he said softly. He wanted to address so much: JARVIS's code, the scars, the haunted look in her eyes. But he couldn't, he couldn't. So instead, he offered, "Breakfast?"

She didn't show any visible reaction for a moment, though while her stare was as calculating as it always had been, now it was _sharp._ Then she looked back at Barnes. He must have seen something there, because he got up and left the gym without a word. She watched him as he went and then her gaze flicked back to Tony. "I'll meet you on the common floor," she said, voice tight. "I— I'm gonna shower and change." She gestured at the gym bag sitting next to where Barnes had been.

"I— Oh. I'll, uh . . . I'll make pancakes," he said, backing out of the room. "Common floor, J," he said once he was in the elevator. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He let exhaustion pull at his shoulders and he shuffled out onto the common floor and into the kitchen. He stood silently for a long moment, gathering himself together. And then he moved to make the pancakes.

He was pouring the first batch on the griddle when he was interrupted. "What did you want to ask me?"

He jumped in alarm, flinging batter as he did so. He looked up to find Danielle next to him. Tony's gaze flicked to the elevator and he could have sworn that it hadn't opened at all. "I—" He swallowed. "I just wanted to have breakfast with you."

She ran a hand through her wet hair and eyed him for a moment. Then she tugged on her beanie and turned, pacing over to the table. "Okay. I don't believe you." She sat down and began absently tracing patterns into the wooden tabletop. "You can ask me whatever you want, you know. That doesn't mean I'll answer, but . . . you can ask."

"Oh." Tony swallowed thickly. "Okay." They fell into silence as he finished flipping the pancakes and then brought the towering stack over to the table. And then he fetched plates and syrup. He lingered nervously for a moment before sitting down across from her.

Without a word, Danielle took half the pancakes—that had to be _at least_ twenty—and put them on her plate before emptying a good third of the syrup bottle over them. Tony blinked, staring. "Hungry?" he asked cautiously.

She glanced at him but didn't say anything, instead finishing devouring the food. As she began transferring the rest of the pancakes to her plate, Tony pushed himself to his feet. "Do you, do you want a drink?"

Her gaze flicked up to him and he wondered how he'd missed the scars the day before, let alone the way she stared like she was seeing ghosts. "Milk," she said simply. "Please."

"Right, right." He scrambled to get her a glass.

"Good morning, Steve."

Tony jumped in surprise and looking over at where Steve stood at the threshold to the kitchen, clearly freshly showered from after his run. He hesitated for a long moment, glancing at Tony and then at Danielle. "Good morning," he greeted softly. "I'm . . . sorry. For yesterday."

Danielle stared at him for a long, drawn out moment, expression blank. Then she nodded and shrugged, shoveling another forkful of pancakes into her mouth. "No prob. Don't worry 'bout it." She stilled as Tony set the glass of milk next to her. Her gaze flicked up to him and she managed a shaky smile. "Thank you."

As Tony shuffled away to make coffee and Steve started putting together his own breakfast, Danielle finished up her pancakes and drained the glass of milk. She frowned down at her plate.

"Is . . . something wrong?" Steve asked, sitting down at the table.

Her gaze flicked to him and she shook her head. "Hungry," she murmured. She shoved herself to her feet. "JARVIS, let Winter know I'm making breakfast. I know he needs to eat." She moved to the fridge and took out the carton of eggs.

Tony took a deep breath. "Are you the one that changed JARVIS's code?"

Danielle didn't stop to look at him, putting a pan on the stove and then cracking a half dozen eggs and whisking them together. "Yes. Don't worry, it won't conflict with anything else. And he's still allowed to notify or interfere if I'm in danger."

"You changed JARVIS's code?" Steve asked. "Isn't that . . . . I thought only Tony had access."

"You're right," she mused, reaching over and picking up a spatula. She looked back over her shoulder when the elevator opened. "Took you long enough."

Tony watched Barnes cautiously as the man stepped across the room without so much as a glance for Tony or Steve. Instead, he made a beeline straight for Danielle and stopped next to her, curling his metal hand around her waist. Tony eyed the hand tensely. When he glanced at Steve, he found the soldier watching the hand too.

"Cheese," Danielle murmured softly. Barnes released her to go to the fridge. She dished out the eggs on a plate and took the bag from him. After sprinkling some cheese on, she nudged the plate towards him. "Eat up." Then she started scrambling the next half dozen eggs. She put some bread in the toaster and went digging for some fruit. Then she dished the eggs out on her plate next to the two sliced apples, pear, strawberries, and four slices of toast. She sat down at the table with a refilled glass of milk.

"Hungry much?" Tony asked in bemusement.

"Yeah, well, the serum is a greedy bastard when it comes to calories."

Steve jerked his stare to her. "Serum?" he asked lowly. "When you say serum—"

"It's exactly what you're thinking," she interrupted, looking up and holding his gaze with something intense until he looked away. "Hydra didn't snatch me up just for my pretty face, you know."Tony opened his mouth only to realize that he really wasn't sure what it was he wanted to say. He was saved by the elevator opening. Danielle glanced over. "Wilson," she greeted. "Sleep in late?"

"Hilarious," Sam grumbled. "No, actually, Steve here dragged me out of the house at five for a run. Because he's fucking insane. The last thing I want to do that early in the morning is run six miles." He started pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Danielle stared for a long moment and nodded slowly. "Six miles," she said dryly. "Truly a hardship."

Tony hesitated. "Didn't JARVIS say you ran thirty-two miles this morning?"

"Thirty— Holy shit!" The coffee sloshed as he jerked in surprise. "You're crazy!"

"So I've been told." She felt anxiety uncurling under her skin at just how close everyone was and the soldier in her head kept screaming _dangerous, vulnerable, defend._ She swallowed down those feelings and instead focused on Bucky's heartbeat next to her, reaching out under the table to hook her ankle around his so that she had some sense of contact.

"You aren't wearing shoes."

Danielle blinked, glancing at Tony. "No . . ." she said slowly. "I'm not."

"You weren't earlier either. I— Did the shoes I ordered not fit?"

"I—" She bit down on her tongue to stop herself from saying more because she knew her words would make that broken look in her father's eyes more jagged. Instead, she said, "They fit."

"I— Oh." Tony nodded. "Let me know if you need—" He cut himself off. "Um . . . . Pepper is going to be here in a couple hours. She, she's on her way back from a business trip in Japan."

Danielle's chest tightened. “Okay."

* * *

 

"You could have at least taken me with you," Bucky grumbled, stepping in through the suite's door.

Danielle looked up from her project. "Sorry. I just, I needed to get out of there."

"I know. Awkward family dinner— breakfast— whatever. I get it. But next time, grab me before you jump away." He moved and sat down across from her. Bucky wrinkled his nose and reached out, poking at the metal and wires in front of her. "What's this?"

"Workin' on upgrades," she murmured, scratching out a few notes on her blueprints and then tucking the pencil back behind her ear. "Stole some material from Dad's stored supplies for his own projects."

"Upgrades?" He twisted a bit to get a better look at the blueprint. "That's my arm," he said dumbly.

"Look how smart you are," she said flatly, not looking up. "Of course it's your arm. I have over a year of upgrades I've wanted to do and now I finally have the resources for it. Look." She pointed at a rough sketch, but he couldn't make heads or tails of it. "This will better your sensitivity. Pressure, temperature, and the like. I'm working on texture, but that's harder to translate into something your nervous system can properly interpret."

"Explain it," he ordered easily, shuffling around so he was sitting next to her and staring down at the papers.

* * *

 

Long after Danielle had flickered away and Barnes had followed in the elevator, Tony found that he was still staring at the vacant chair in utter silence. He forced himself to move, to stand. He drained the last of his coffee and was relieved to have an actual course of action now. As he was refilling his mug, he heard Sam awkwardly clear his throat.

"Well . . . is it just me, or does it seem like she doesn't want to be here?"

Tony flinched. "I dunno," he muttered. He turned back and cradled the steaming mug in his hands, staring at the chair again.

"I'm sorry."

Tony glanced up. "What's that, Cap?"

"I'm sorry," the soldier said again.

Tony frowned. "What for?"

Steve hesitated. "I . . . I'm not sure."

Tony dropped his gaze again at that and moved forward. His stare flicked from the chair to the table. He frowned. "Uh, J?"

"Yes?" the AI responded immediately.

Tony reached out and brushed his fingers over the lines newly etched into the tabletop. "What . . . what is that?"

JARVIS was silent for a short moment. "Sir, it appears to be the plans of a disassembled Mk 153 SMAW, if my weapons analysis database is correct."

"Uh." Sam cleared his throat. "Does your daughter normally carve weapons blueprints into the table over breakfast?"

"I . . . I have no idea."


	4. Every path was an improvisation (a considerable part of one's waking life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Lord of the Flies by William Golding.

"Hey, JARVIS?" Danielle asked the moment the elevator started moving.

"Yes, Danielle?"

"Tell Winter that if this goes sideways, I'm blaming him for making me go."

A pause. "Message relayed," JARVIS said, sounding vaguely amused. "If I may, how would this situation 'go sideways,' as you put it?"

She considered it for a moment. "Honestly, me freaking out and accidentally stabbing someone would be one of the better ways it could go wrong."

"I do believe that course of action is not quite as likely as you have calculated."

Danielle just waved a hand in response. The doors opened and she settled immediately into a defensive mindset, stepping slowly out. There were only three people on the floor: Clint curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn while watching reruns of SpongeBob and Tony and Pepper together in the kitchen, where she was sitting at the table and he was pouring her tea.

Clint glanced at her and then shuffled a bit to the side to make room for her. Danielle shook her head and managed some semblance of a grateful smile before moving past him. She paused at the threshold of the kitchen by didn't move any farther. Pepper looked up and her exhaustion slipped away a bit, replaced by a smile. "Danielle," she breathed. And then she was on her feet and moved swiftly forward, closing her arms around her.

Danielle tensed in her hold and forwent returning the hug in favor of keeping her heartbeat and panic down. It took a moment before Pepper drew back. "I—" The woman cleared her throat. "I was so worried."

"I figured." Danielle took a step away. "Sorry for that."

"Don't— It's not your fault, sweetheart. Look at you. Look at how much you've grown."

"That's not me, that's the serum," Danielle said simply. "Without it, I would probably have topped out at five five." She moved away for the counter and started the coffee maker. "Where's Rhodey?"

"On his way back from a mission in the Middle East. He'll be here for lunch tomorrow." Tony gave a small smile and passed her a mug. "Are you looking forward to seeing him again?"

"Of course."

"He'll be happy to hear that. He's missed you."

She nodded absently, sipping at the steaming coffee. "Am I allowed to use the range?"

"I—" Tony blinked. "Yes."

"Good." With that, she turned and moved back to the couch. Danielle peered over the back. "Clint. Do you want to go to the range with me?"

He paused the TV and looked up at her, blinking. "Now?" Clint groaned and threw off his blanket. "Yeah, I guess. Gimme a second." He shoved himself to his feet and stretched, his back cracking loudly. When Danielle snickered, he shot her a glare. "Hey, you'll be this old too someday. Then you'll have the same problems."

"I dunno about that," she mused. "Steve's older than you, but the serum's kept him nice and healthy. It'll probably do the same to me."

"Damn super soldiers," he muttered. "Alright, let's go." He shuffled towards the elevator. "Practice or contest?"

"Up to you," she said, stepping in. "Range, JARVIS." She glanced at Clint. "I'm good, but I doubt I'm up to your level yet."

"Aw, you make it sound like you will be eventually. Hate to break it to you, but _no one_ is on my level."

"I will be," she mused. "Someday. You better watch out for that."

"As if." He stepped out ahead of her when the doors opened. "You been keeping up with your bow practice?"

"Only a little. They were far more concerned about my accuracy with guns and knives. You know, more traditional weapons."

He threw Danielle a grin. "Alright, let's start with bows and go from there, then. JARVIS, load target simulation, Massacre Program, please." He moved to get his bow and then tossed a purple one to her. "I've kept yours in tiptop shape for you."

She caught it and looked it over as she moved for arrows. "That's a lot of work for someone you weren't sure you would ever see again."

"We were always gonna see you again."

Danielle looked at him sharply. "There's no way you could have known that." She nocked her first arrow. "Ready when you are."

"Right. JARVIS, start program."

The range was silent for a long moment. Then it lit up with targets. Clint was faster with a bow, that was for sure. He had experience over her and, where a bow was concerned, he had skill over her too. So instead of focusing on him, she focused on being methodical. Targets were hit, reappeared somewhere else, and were hit again.

Clint took the last shot and all the targets vanished.

"Three hundred targets hit," JARVIS announced. "Program finished."

Clint grinned and lowered his bow, watching as a bot moved to collect all the arrows. "Sweet. How'd I do?"

"You hit one hundred seventy-three targets, missing none. 100% bullseye accuracy."

"And mini-Stark here?"

"Danielle hit one hundred twenty-seven targets, missing none. 92% bullseye accuracy. Ten shots missed perfect accuracy but still landed within nine centimeters."

Clint whistled. "Damn, little sharpshooter, I underestimated you." He turned to find her putting her bow away and choosing a handgun, a frown on her face. "What's wrong, baby Sharps?"

She shrugged. "I could have been better." She loaded her first clip. "But I'm better with guns. Ready to lose?"

He grinned. "You can definitely try.”

* * *

 

Everyone was on the common floor when Clint and Danielle returned there for dinner. Pepper was long gone and Tony had taken her place at the table, studying his tablet. Bucky was hidden away in an armchair he'd dragged to the corner of the room. He looked up when they entered. "Well?"

Clint answered before she could. "She's a goddamn miracle!" he announced loudly. "She almost tied me on firearm target numbers in the speed round!"

"My bullseye accuracy there was only 96%," she reminded him. "Could be better."

"Everyone could be. Except me, of course."

"Humble," Natasha murmured from her spot on the couch. She held out a hand. "Here, Danielle," she ordered.

Danielle shuffled obediently forward and took the woman's hand, letting herself be pulled down and tucked against Natasha's side. The redhead retrieved the plate from the end table and passed it to her. "Eleven PB&Js. Does that work?"

"It's a start. Thank you."

Natasha reached up and pulled off the beanie. When Danielle stiffened, she shushed her calmly and ran her hand through Danielle's hair. She paused against the bullet scars and began pressing circles there. Danielle relaxed into the touch.

"Sleep well?"

If she hadn't heard him move closer, the new voice would have made her jump. Instead, she finished off her first sandwich and looked up at Sam. She didn't answer.

He nodded, as if he knew something she didn't. "Warm milk before bed should help."

She couldn't help the way her lips pulled in a snarl. "I'm not a baby."

"I'm not either, but it helps me. Chips?" He offered up a can of Pringles.

She frowned and took them. "Thanks, I guess. I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask." He gave Natasha a friendly little wave and then moseyed away.

"Sam's nice," Natasha whispered. "Get to know him and you'll be friends. I promise."

"You don't know that."

"I know you."

"I've changed."

Natasha's smile was something dangerous. "Trust me, I know.”

* * *

 

"You didn't stab any of them. That's good."

Danielle glared at him from her spot on the floor. "It was a close thing. I don't remember social interaction being this exhausting."

With a groan, he sat next to her. Bucky spread his hands across her back and started digging into her muscles. "Tired, then? Think you'll get some sleep tonight?"

"I doubt it."

"You should try."

She didn't have an answer for that.

* * *

 

She'd just finished her seven-course breakfast—courtesy of Sam—and now she felt like throwing it all up. Danielle couldn't move, cemented where she stood and unable to look away from the report on the TV. Unable to stop the darkness that was gnawing at the base of her ribs, threatening to choke her from the inside out. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move. She couldn't do anything but stare and listen to the hell she'd caused.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and finally she moved, more animalistic instinct than thinking. She swung around, hitting the figure hard enough that he was flung back into the wall and pinned there by the Tesseract. Her energy yanked the kitchen drawers open and knives flung out, stopping barely an inch from stabbing him. She froze and her eyes widened, mirroring his own wide eyes.

"Oh my god," she breathed. "I'm sorry. I'm so— I didn't mean— Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

And with that, she let Rhodey and the knives drop to the ground and she flickered away.


	5. The human heart is a line (whereas my own is a circle)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

"I'm sorry. If I had known she'd react like that— I didn't mean to scare her."

Bucky frowned at the TV, watching the news report for a moment. "It's not your fault. Was this what she was watching when you came in?"

Rhodey glanced at the TV, taking a moment to watch the report on the Triskelion Incident. "Yeah. Why?"

Bucky sighed. "That explains it. It's not your fault. Normally, she'd have heard you coming."

"Scans have finished, Sir," JARVIS cut in. "Danielle is not in the Tower."

"Shit," Tony muttered.

"She just up and disappeared?" Steve asked, frowning. "She wouldn't have gone far, right?"

"Admittedly, I think she was pretty freaked out," Rhodey said, voice a bit shaky. "I just wanted to talk to her."

"Don't worry, I'll find her," Bucky said, already moving to the elevator.

In the end, it took him an hour of scouring the city and retracing his steps constantly in an attempt to decipher where she would have gone before he finally found her, up a tree in the park. He stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head back to look at her. "Come down," he ordered.

"No." The word was whimpered and distant.

"Nell," he sighed. "I'm not climbing up there. I need to talk to you, so you need to come down." He pulled awkwardly at his long sleeve shirt, well aware he was getting odd looks for talking to a tree. "C'mon, people are startin' to think I'm crazy."

She was silent. And then she said, "You _are_ crazy."

"Haha. Get down here."

Danielle uncurled from where she was wedged between two branches and looked down at him. "I . . . I don't want to," she whispered. "I didn't realize. They said my helicarriers failed. I, I thought that meant— I didn't realize they still killed people. I thought, I thought they got taken down before . . . ."

"Your designs were good. Hard for them to get through. Your defenses were solid."

The words made her hunch her shoulder. "Yeah, thanks," she spat.

"Nell," he said firmly, "all that means it that now you can use those skills to protect people instead. You get that, right?"

"It's pointless. I think it's been solidly proven what I'm good for, and it's not protecting people."

He tilted his head to the side, considering that for a long moment. Bucky shrugged. "Well, you protected me, didn't you? Everything you did was to protect me from them, right?"

Danielle stared down at him for a long moment. She shrugged and picked at the leaves. "I guess. Maybe. You're probably right."

"Of course I am. Now, why don't you come down from there?"

She didn't move for a little bit, so he waited. Eventually, she straightened and leaned forward, grabbing a branch. Danielle swung forward and dropped down to the ground. Immediately, Bucky pulled her into his arms. Her shoulders shook and she pressed into his chest, arms winding around his middle. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to— I didn't realize he was there," she gasped out. "I just _acted_ and I thought, I thought— I'm sorry."

"Shush. It's fine. Rhodes isn't upset with you, ya know."

Her grip on him tightened. "Can we go back to the room? Please?"

"Of course."

She looked up and her eyes went distant for a moment as she focused. And then they flickered away.

Bucky stumbled a bit as they landed in their suite's living room. "Shit," he mumbled. "I'll never get used to that."

"Danielle, am I allowed to inform the others of your return?" JARVIS asked.

She hesitated. "Um, yeah, I guess. Go ahead." She sank down on the couch and rubbed her forehead.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" he asked, crouching down in front of her.

Danielle scoffed. "No. I— No."

"Danielle, Colonel Rhodes is outside the door and would like to speak with you."

She stiffened in alarm. "Don't let him in!" Panicked, she lunged for Bucky. "I can't— I don't— Winter, I can't do that. I can't!"

"Shh." He caught her easily. "Yes, you can. Just take a deep breath. There you go." He dragged off her beanie and ran his metal fingers through her hair. "Better. And I do think you should talk to him."

"But—"

"It'd be good for you."

Danielle ducked her head. "I can't," she mumbled again. "I almost— I can't."

"You'll be fine."

"I'm not the one that I'm worried about."

"I know." He moved her back to the couch and got to his feet. "I'll let him in."

"Winter—"

"Nell." Bucky fixed her with a sharp look. "You're not a coward."

She leveled a glare at him and crossed her arms. "Fine," she bit out. "Let him in."

Bucky nodded, giving her a look as she moved to work on her blueprints. With a sigh, he stepped over to the door and opened it. He raised an eyebrow at the cup in the man's hands. "Coffee?"

Rhodey shrugged. "Thought it would help."

Bucky stepped through the door and moved towards the elevators. "She's all yours.”

* * *

 

She did her best to ignore him as he came in, but it was hard. He was loud now, so much louder than earlier, taking each step in a way as if to make sure she heard. Danielle hunched her shoulders and scratched out a correction in her notes.

"Coffee." He thrust a cup in front of her.

Danielle stared at it. Then she sighed and gave in. "Thanks," she mumbled, shoving her blueprints aside and taking the mug. Danielle took a sip. And then she finally glanced up at him. "I'm sorry for . . . earlier."

He waved a hand dismissively and sat down beside her. "Don't worry about it, Goose." Rhodey tilted his head to the side. "So, from what I understand, that's the first time you've left the Tower since you got back."

"Yeah. So?"

"So," he said, drawing out the word as he stretched out his legs, "I was thinking you need to get out more. And I haven't had lunch yet. So picnic? At the park? You know, just like we did when you were younger."

She hesitated and pulled nervously at her high collar. "I—"

"Lots of war veterans have scars, kiddo. They're badges of pride, not dishonor."

Her eyes widened. "How did you— I'm not— They're— I'm not a _war veteran,_ Rhodey."

"In a way, you are. A war that Hydra dragged you into, yes, but still." He shrugged. "My point is the same as what I tell my soldiers, though. If you stay ashamed of those scars, then the people that gave them to you? You're still letting them hold all the power. Wearing them proudly would be a nice 'fuck you' to Hydra, don't you think?"

She sniggered. "Don't let Dad hear you using that language around me."

"Goose."

She sighed. "Yeah, I . . . I get what you're saying."

"Good. And?"

She took a long sip from her coffee. "I— A picnic sounds nice," she mumbled.

"Great. I'll get some food and wait for you in the lobby, okay?" He pushed himself up. "See you in a bit." Rhodey leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Then he left.

Danielle sat there for a bit longer, nursing her coffee and trying to convince herself to move. She set her half-empty, cold mug aside and flickered away to her room. After staring at herself in the mirror, she changed her turtleneck out for a t-shirt.

Her scars stood out starkly against her skin and she was tempted to scowl at them. But instead, she took a deep breath and nodded. "Fuck you, Hydra," she hissed.

Satisfied, she left for the lobby.

Rhodey grinned. "I thought for a second there that you stood me up."

"Never," she said, glancing side to side. Exits, threats, potential weapons. "That's not a traditional picnic basket."

He glanced down at the large rolling cooler. "No, it's not. But I hear you need a lot more food nowadays." Rhodey offered her his arm. "Let's go."

Danielle hesitated for just a second before taking his arm. "Right. Okay."

As they stepped outside and started their walk, he said, "The one around your neck. What's that from?"

She swallowed thickly and reached up, feeling the thick scar there. "Um . . . . So you know the necklace I made to help me managed the Tesseract? They got those blueprints somehow and, well . . . made a more hardcore version. Total control. Dampened the Tesseract completely, painfully, and, well . . . it left a mark."

"Your own tech, huh?" He sighed. "You Starks have a bad habit of letting your own stuff get used against you."

She considered that for a moment. "We do, don't we?" Danielle bit down on her lip. "Dad said you missed me."

"Of course I missed you. But you know that, so there's no reason for me to keep hashing it when you've been hearing it for everyone." He slipped his arm from her grip and wrapped it around her waist instead, tugging her closer. "Listen, Goose, I could say I missed you, I could apologize for not bringing you home, I could say all those things until I'm blue in the face. But none of that matters anymore, does it? You know the only thing that does matter?"

She glanced up at him and couldn't hold back her smile. "What is it?"

Rhodey grinned at her. "I love you. There it is. That's the only thing that matters. As long as you know that, you definitely know all the rest of it."

“Oh."

* * *

 

"You're _not_ going without me!"

"I'm sorry, Danielle, but I have to agree with Tony. We're not going to take a child into danger when you'd be much safer here."

"He's not concerned because I'm a child," Danielle growled, slamming her hands down on the table and leaning forward. "He's concerned because I'm _his_ child. But news flash! I can fight and defend myself just fine after the past couple years. I'm _not_ a child anymore."

"Danielle, please," Steve protested. "I really don't think—"

"Steve," Natasha cut in. "She should get to go. After all, the base we're combing through is just another one of the ones that she's already cleared. She's more than proven herself with just Barnes at her side. With all of us around her, she'll be just fine. This isn't even a combat mission."

"I agree with Tash," Clint said, crossing his arms. "I've seen her in the range _and_ I've seen her go a few rounds with the punching bag. Even if this was a combat mission, I doubt she'd be in much danger."

Steve hesitated and glanced at Bruce, who shrugged. "I'm staying out of it," he said, lifting his hands in a show of compliance. "I'll go with whatever the team leaders decide."

Rhodey sighed. "Tones, I have to disagree with you. This is a Hydra mission. I think she has more right to move against them than anyone else here, excluding Barnes. And I'm not talking just about this mission. I'm talking about _all_ of them. If you're really going to stop her, then I think you're wrong."

Tony stared around at everyone, even at Steve who was shrugging helplessly. He sought out Danielle's gaze. "You'd be safer here."

"And I can take care of myself out there," she pointed out stiffly. "Even if you leave me, I'd just follow. You wouldn't be able to stop me. Not unless you locked me up just like Hydra did."

Tony drew back like he'd been hit. Bucky frowned. "Nell," he said lowly. "That's too far."

She forced a deep breath. "I'm . . . sorry. I didn't mean it that way." Danielle paused and cocked her head to the side. "But I did mean the part about me just following anyway. This is my fight."

"She's right," Rhodey offered up. "I get why you don't want her there, Tony, but I'm being honest when I say that's the place she needs to be."

"I . . . ." Tony stared at her for a long moment, as if pleading with her to give in. When she didn't, he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Fine. But you have one of us with you at all times, you stay on the coms, and you listen to the orders Cap gives out, okay."

Danielle grinned and there was something sharp there that he'd never seen before. "Yes, sir."


	6. If you can hit 'em (but remember it's a sin)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee.

"I can get Nat and myself in the morgue to start bagging bodies while you guys cut through the lockdown doors."

Tony hesitated but Steve nodded. "Do it. Keep your coms on."

"Roger, Rogers." Danielle reached out and curled her hand around Natasha's bicep. "Ready?"

"Of course."

Danielle focused, drawing the map in her mind and measuring the distance. Then she flickered them. She opened her eyes in the morgue. Immediately, Natasha stooped down and picked up the toe tag from the floor that read STARK, DANIELLE. The woman shoved it in her pocket and stepped over to the door that read STARK, DANIELLE as well. She slipped out her knife and started scratching off the name.

Danielle glanced at her and signed 'thank you.' Natasha just nodded.

 _"Are the bodies all there?"_ Steve asked in their ears.

"Can't confirm yet." Danielle opened the first tray and slid it out. "How are the doors coming?"

_"We're almost through the first one."_

"That's three bodies confirmed," Natasha said. "How far out is the team coming to collect?

_"An hour."_

"Five confirmed," Danielle said. She dragged out another door. "Six.""All eight confirmed," Natasha said. "We'll work on opening the path from our direction so that they can get the bodies out."

Danielle shrugged and reached out. "This is an outside wall. I can open this up."

_"Open it up? What are you saying?"_

Natasha just nodded. "Go ahead."

_"Wait, what—"_

Danielle stepped back and drew Tesseract energy into the palm of her hand. Then she stepped forward and slammed her hand into the wall. It buckled beneath her touch and gave way with a crash. Natasha coughed at the dust and Danielle let the heat fade away.

"Will that do?"

Natasha raised one eyebrow impassively, staring at the the giant hole left in the wall. "Yeah, I think that'll do."

 _"What was that? What happened?"_ Tony's voice came over the coms, high and loud with worry. _"Are you two okay?"_

"We're fine," Natasha said. "We're coming to you."

 _"Don't,"_ Steve said. _"Looks like we've got company. Stay where you are, Danielle."_

"Company?" Danielle stiffened. "Hydra? Steve, if Hydra is here then you need me out there."

_"Stay where you are."_

She glanced sharply at Natasha, who nodded. "She's right, Steve. If it's Hydra, you'll want all hands on deck. Besides, I don't think you could keep her away if you tried."

There was a long pause.

_"Fine."_

Tony immediately started protesting, but Danielle didn't care. She reached for Natasha and then flickered them away to the hallway at the front of the building. Steve motioned for them to get down and they both crouched. "They just arrived on wheels," he said, voice echoing in their ears. "They came a different direction from where we landed the quinjet, so I don't think they know we're here."

"Elimination or capture?" Natasha murmured.

"Get down!" Danielle snapped, throwing up her hands and forcing energy out into a wall between them and the RPG Hydra had shot. It hit solidly against her shield and exploded and she trembled at the backlash, dropping to one knee. As the explosion cleared, she dropped the wall and glanced at Steve. "I think they know we're here."

"No shit," Clint muttered. "Cap?"

"Neutralize, whether that means eliminate or subdue. But we can't let them back in this base."

Danielle grinned. "If they get grouped up, I can go bowling."

Steve considered that, glanced at Tony, and said, "Draw a line. Danielle will follow."

Tony scowled and his faceplate snapped down. "Just for the record, I hate this plan." Then he took off out the entrance. Immediately, gun fire turned to him. _"There's three grounds. Twelve o'clock, ten, and two."_

"Distance to back of group twelve?"

There was a slight pause. _"Estimated two hundred sixty-three feet. Why?"_

Danielle closed her eyes and focused, measuring. And then she flickered. The moment she appeared behind them, she drew her hands together and then apart, forming a ball of energy. She whipped it forward. Just as it slammed into the Hydra agents there, something sharp and stinging slammed into her side. Danielle stumbled and whipped around, glaring at the remaining agent. "Goddammit, you didn't get me to the _back,"_ she hissed. She reached out and energy curled around her opponent. Danielle focused, head pounding and fuzzy, and squeezed. His neck cracked.

She let out a deep breath and fumbled with her side, where blood was spreading across her uniform. The armor was good, just not good enough to stop a bullet at practically point blank range.

_"Danielle? Report."_

"Twelve o'clock group managed," she said, gritting her teeth as she dug the bullet out. "How's it going with the rest?"

_"Widow, Iron Man, and Hawkeye are taking the two o'clock group. Falcon and I could use some help over here at the ten o'clock."_

She flicked the bullet aside and screwed her eyes shut as she hastened through patching up her side. "You got it." She turned towards where they were and focused on the distant, drawing her gun. She flickered and, the moment she touched down, Danielle shot the man at Steve's back through the head.

"Duck!" Sam yelled, diving for her. As she did so, he drop kicked the man behind her. She swung around, energy forming a blade in her hand, and stabbed him to the ground.

 _"Two o'clock clear,"_ Tony said over the coms just before three of Clint's arrows took down some of Danielle's enemies. _"I'm calling in National for cleanup,"_ Tony said as one of his repulsor blasts took out the last Hydra agent. He landed and his faceplate snapped up. "Danielle! What the hell happened?" He moved for her.

She shook her head and held out a hand, only to draw it back to hide her yawn. "I was shot." She jumped a bit in surprise when something touched her side, but it was just Bucky peeling back the hem of her bloody uniform to get a glimpse at the new scar staining her side. "I need a nap," she murmured.

"You were _shot?"_ The Iron Man suit peeled away and Tony stumbled forward. When she instinctively tensed, he slowed. "I just want to look," he said desperately. This time, she didn't move as his hands pressed against her side and he began searching for a wound that wasn't there. "That's my girl," he murmured. "Thank you."

And then she wasn't seeing him; instead, she was seeing Sunil smile and moving to kiss her forehead as he said those words. Panic squeezed through her lungs and she jerked back, flickering a couple steps away so that Bucky was between her and her father. Bucky immediately lifted his arm as a barrier and Tony stopped, eyes wide. "I— Sorry?" he apologized hesitantly, as if he wasn't quite sure just what he was apologizing for.

"Sorry," she echoed back at him, trying her best to steady her shaking. "I'm sorry."

Bucky glanced back at her and then at Steve. "We heading back to the quinjet?"

"You two go ahead. We'll wait here for National." Steve hesitated. "Clint, you go with them. We don't need you ticking off any of their agents again."

Clint grinned. Bucky nodded to Danielle and ordered, "Up."

Without a word, she climbed onto his back and tucked her face into his neck. He hooked his hands under her knees and turned. "Let's go, Barton."

"Aw, do I not get to be carried?" Clint whined.

"No," Danielle said firmly, tightening her grip around Bucky's shoulders.

In response, the soldier grunted. "Relax. Go to sleep."

"Right." Danielle tilted her head to the side so she could shoot an evil eye at Clint. And then she gave in to the consequences of healing herself.

* * *

 

Natasha ordered JARVIS to halt the elevator and then turned to him. "Have you talked to him yet?" she asked softly, tapping his chin until he looked at her. He didn't say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough. Natasha sighed. "Steve . . . . Have you tried?"

"I . . . . Not officially?"

"Officially," she echoed. "What does that mean?"

"I haven't . . . tried to sit down with him yet. To talk. But anytime I do say anything—asking how he is or, or if he needs anything or—" Steve pulled away from her and dragged his hand down his face. "He barely pays attention, especially if he thinks Danielle warrants more focus at that moment."

"He always thinks that."

"Exactly. Plus, I'd never be able to get him alone. Have you seen him? He hardly likes to leave her side. And if he isn't right next to her, he's keeping tabs on her or checking in on her and— I can't talk to him. I just . . . . I would need to talk to him alone and I would need his focus and—"

"Neither of those things are happening?" she finished for him. Natasha sighed. "Danielle is sleeping right now. He's holed up in their suite. If you don't talk to him now, then when?"

He dropped his gaze away.

Natasha leaned over and tapped the button for Bucky, Danielle, and Sam's floor. "You're going to talk to him. Now."

"I'm—"

"Going to do what I say. I'll know if you don't," she warned. She stepped away from the doors as they opened. "Go on."

Steve stared at her and then out into the hall. It took long enough that usually the doors would have closed and Natasha smiled faintly in appreciation of JARVIS's role. She motioned to him and Steve stepped out.

"You better be right about this."

"Oh, Steve, I'm right about everything."

He swallowed thickly as the elevator closed and then he turned to the door. It took him too long to knock, and it took even longer for the door to open. His mouth was dry and his throat hurt. He took a shaky breath. "Hey, Buck. Have a moment?"

Bucky eyed him for a long moment and then nodded, stepping aside. "Come on in."


	7. Once upon a time (her laughter was a question)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I finally get around to revealing who Danielle’s mother is/was! So in that case, it’s definitely not MCU canon-compliant, as her mother was decided/backstory modified before the movie she was in came out.  
> This chapter title comes from The History of Love by Nicole Krauss.

After seven minutes of awkward silence—at least, awkward for Steve as he sat alone on the couch and watched Bucky move around the kitchen making chicken noodle soup while Bacon meowed and walked constantly underfoot—he finally tried to make conversation and stumbled into the one topic he had desperately wanted to avoid.

"How's Danielle?"

Bucky paused and stared at him for a long moment. Then he huffed and returned to digging through the spice rack. "That's your question? Really?" He selected a couple spices and turned back to the pot. "She's doing okay. She'll be up in an hour or two, probably."

"I, uh, I don't want to blindside her by being here," Steve said, grasping at straws for any way out of the situation.

"You won't. She'll hear you."

Steve faltered. "Hear . . . me?"

Bucky waved the spoon and then dipped it back into the pot. "Combination of the serum and Tesseract. Her hearing is crazy." He tasted the soup and paused for a moment. Then he reached for more salt. "We were at this little hotel over in Uzbekistan and she heard the beginning of an armed robbery a block down. When we were in Chile, she heard some traffickers kidnapping a girl seven streets away. Things like that. Your heartbeat? That won't be a problem." He tasted the soup again. "Better," he murmured.

"Do you . . . do you need help?"

"No." Bucky set it to simmer and then moved to stand at the edge between the kitchen and the main area. "You didn't come here to talk about Nell. What do you want?"

Steve swallowed thickly. "I . . . I don't know, okay. I know nothing's ever gonna be like it was before. You're different; _I'm_ different. So I know that. But . . . I guess I was just hoping for something. Do you even . . . ."

"Remember?" Bucky crossed his arms and glanced to the left. "Some of it. More recent stuff is easier. It's all coming back slowly. Slower than I'd like. But . . . I remember bits and pieces. I'm just never sure how much of it's real and how much of it Hydra shoved in my head." He finally moved and slumped into the armchair across from the couch. "Only damn thing I'm sure of is Nell. They didn't have time to make up anything about her."

"I— Right."

Bacon jumped up into Bucky's lap, purring loudly. With a sigh, Bucky began scratching him behind the ears. "She asked, you know. She asked if I wanted her to call me Bucky. I told her no."

"Okay."

"You're still upset with her for calling me Winter."

"I'm not—"

"You are."

Steve sighed. "I . . . . Yeah. I thought it was bad. That it would just be constantly reminding you of . . . well."

"Hydra?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow. "Being the Winter Soldier? That's the one thing I'm not gonna forget. I didn't want her to start calling me Bucky. I feel more like her Winter than I feel like either Bucky Barnes or the Asset."

"Right. I'm . . . sorry for being angry with her."

"Why are you apologizing to me for that? She's the one you should apologize to."

Steve didn't really have an answer for that.

"I don't remember everything, you know. Bits and pieces. Even more recent things, even my time in Hydra while Nell was there. Still . . .has holes. Nell keeps saying my brain is like swiss cheese. And sometimes I'll remember things and then the next day I won't. It comes and goes."

"And . . . today?"

Bucky paused, gaze flicking away as he thought about it. "Wartime's pretty clear. But not anything before that."

"And— Well, and Hydra?"

"Pieces. Like I said, I don't even remember all of my time there with Nell. Sometimes she'll mention things and I just . . . don't know." Bucky cocked his head to the side. "I'm not the same. You know that, right?"

"I know that." Steve wasn't sure if he was convincing at all. "I'm sorry. I'm . . . trying, but I guess I'm not good at . . . ." He didn't finish that sentence and he didn't really need to. He couldn't.

There was a yelp from one of the bedrooms and all the lights in the room flickered ominously. Immediately, Bucky was on his feet and Steve was painfully aware that his luck had already run out for this conversation. He found that he didn't know what to do except for sit uselessly as Bucky disappeared into the other room. He was just gathering his strength to give up and leave when Bucky stepped back out. "Sit down," he murmured, before making a beeline for the kitchen.

Danielle shuffled forward. Despite the way she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she wasn't shivering and was wearing just a tank and shorts. Steve had a feeling she was hugging herself more for security than warmth. Her gaze flicked to him but her gaze was glassy and it didn't seem like she was really seeing him at all. Instead of saying anything, she stumbled past him and onto the other couch, curling up with her back to him.

His breath caught up in his throat like a stopper and he dug his fingers into the cushions. Stark and angry against Danielle's skin sat Hydra's sigil, permanently burned into her. He was still staring at that spot, even as Bucky returned to her side. Even as he helped her sit up and pressed the bowl of soup into her hands. As Bucky murmured things softly to her in another language and guided her shaking hands as she ate, Steve suddenly felt like he was intruding on a very delicate, intimate moment.

And when he carefully stood up and stepped from the room, neither of them seemed to notice.

* * *

 

"You . . . did well on the mission."

Danielle paused, a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth. Her gaze flicked to Bucky—he was pretending he hadn't heard a thing—and then to Steve, who was standing nervously in front of the table. She lowered her spoon. "Thank you . . . ?" she said cautiously.

"And I'm . . . sorry. About how I reacted and— For how I've been acting."

"It's fine."

"I really mean it. I'm—"

"And I said it's fine," she insisted firmly. She shoved her bowl away. "I'm not hungry anymore. Clint, do you want to go do some target practice?"

Clint froze, and in doing so he ended up dumping far more syrup over his pancakes than he needed. "Uh, sorry, Sharps. I'd love to, but Tasha and I are actually leaving in a bit to follow a lead and do some recon." He watched as she wilted a bit. "But hey, you've got your shadow."

"Nope." She fixed Bucky with a stern look. "He's going to spend the day with Steve."

"Well, in that case, I was thinking about catching a showing of Ninja Turtles." Sam snatched up a banana from the basket on the counter and began peeling it. "You in? It'd be weird if I went all alone."

Danielle glanced at him for a long moment and Sam just offered up a grin. "They . . . made a movie?"

"Sure did. You up for seeing it?"

She hesitated. "At the movie theatre," she stated. "In . . . public."

Sam nodded. "At the movie theatre in public. Don't worry, with a stud like me around, no one will even look twice at you."

She offered up a doubtful scoff. But then she nodded. “Fine."

* * *

 

In the course of the movie, Danielle had eaten through two buckets of popcorn, seven boxes of M&Ms, two Icees, and a package of Twizzlers. "Good god," Sam muttered, gathering up all the trash as the credits rolled. "You're not gonna be hungry for a week at this rate."

And then her stomach growled loudly. Danielle wrinkled her nose and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Sorry. The serum really upped how many calories I need."

"Eh, don't worry about it. We'll stop by the mall food court and buy out everything." He patted his pocket where his wallet was. "All on your dear dad's dime. Sound good?"

A smile twitched her lips. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Sounds good."

Sam grinned and then turned on his heel. On their way out of the theatre, Sam dumped everything in his arms into the trash. He opened the door and gave a dramatic bow, offering up his arm. "My lady."

She hesitated. Sam straightened and his grin stayed easily in place as he lowered his arm and turned. "So, let's see what the food court has. McDonald's is a staple, of course, and maybe there's—"

Danielle curled her hand around his elbow. "I'm fine with McDonald's. We might have to buy them out completely, though. Just a warning."

"Sounds like a good time." He dragged her out to the food court and to the line for McDonald's. "See what you want?"

She hesitated. "Um . . . six big macs."

He laughed and dug out the card. "Got it. And I thought _Steve_ ate a lot."

They stepped up to the counter and Sam cleared his throat. "Six big macs and one double cheeseburger. All with fries, please."

The cashier blinked. "Uh . . . right. To drink?"

"Iced coffee," Sam said, tapping the card on the counter.

"And for your sister?"

Sam blinked. He glanced to the side at Danielle, who looked just as blindsided as him. "I, uh . . . two large chocolate shakes. Um, please. And . . . a hot chocolate."

The cashier eyed them as she typed it in. "Can I get a name?"

"Sam," he said. Then he slid the card and the cashier waved them aside.

Danielle stared down at where she was holding his arm. "I don't look like your sister."

He squinted at her. "Eh, you could pass. Maybe as like a half-sister?" Then he grinned. "Aw, look how cute my little sister is."

"Ew, gross." Laughing, she ducked away from him. "I'm gonna be honest, you are _not_ the sibling I expected to ever have."

"You expected to have a sibling?" he asked curiously, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Danielle hesitated and shrugged. "I wanted one for a long time. But, you know. Anyway, a half-sibling would have been all I would have gotten anyway, so I guess you fit."

Sam visibly hesitated. "And . . . your mom? Er, your dad was never public about that. I looked into it." He shrugged. "Sorry. I was curious. But . . . yeah. you just appeared one day."

Danielle's gaze flicked away. "I— Yeah. They weren't public about anything. Their plan was really to let everyone know when they got married. They had it planned and everything. I was supposed to be about six months by that time and— They didn't love each other, you know." Her gaze flicked back and drilled into him. "I asked once. They didn't love each other. But my dad said they tried and . . . that they were willing to learn. But they never really got the chance."

He opened his mouth to respond when his name was called. They turned awkwardly away from the conversation to gather up the bags of food and then moved away to a table. Danielle devoured one hamburger in silence and picking at her fries when she sighed.

"My mom's name was Monica. She was a pilot. And, and a mechanic. That's how she met Rhodey, and he thought she and my dad had a lot in common so he introduced them. Three months later, they, well." She shrugged and slathered the fry in ketchup before popping it into her mouth. "They found out about me. She moved in and they made plans."

Sam nodded, watching the way her gaze kept flickering away from his. "You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"It's . . . fine." She cleared her throat and ate two more burgers in silence. Then, "I was a breech baby. My mom wanted to have me delivered so they tried to turn me. She kept refusing to let them do a c-section until it was almost too late. And—" She shrugged. "Monica didn't make it."

"Ah." He tilted his head to the side and considered her. "My mom died in a mugging when I was fifteen. I know it's not the same, but—"

"I know." Danielle smiled. "Thanks."


	8. Silence (if I were but happy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare.

Heavy arms curled around her and Danielle leaned back into his weight. "Good morning, Winter. Breakfast quesadillas?"

"Hmm? Yes, please."

"Ham and cheddar? Never mind, you don't have a choice. That's what I'm doing for mine, so that's all I have out." She reached for the spatula. "Plans for today?"

He paused. "I don't know since my plans to be with you all day apparently just changed."

She cleared her throat. "Right. Um . . . Sam mentioned that while I shouldn't expect myself to be like I was before, that . . . doing some familiar things might help me . . . move on, I guess. Settle in? He used some fancy words. But . . . . Right. Today I'm going to be in the workshop. With my Dad."

"Oh." He squeezed her tightly. "That sounds like a good idea, you know. You've been avoidant."

"I haven't been—" Growling, she flipped his quesadilla onto a plate. "Go eat."

He laughed and pulled away from her. "Yes, ma'am," he said, picking up the plate and moving to the table. "Well, in that case, I think I'll actually take Barton up on his competition offer."

Danielle's gaze flicked to him. "Competition?"

He waved a quesadilla at her and then bit into it. "Sharpshooting. Though he wants me to use a bow too, which." Bucky wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that . . . ."

"Archaic?" she offered. "A little, but he's good with it so it works." She finished her own quesadillas and moved to the table. "I, uh. I really hope you to get along. I mean, I hope you get along with everyone, but Clint is . . . ." She swallowed. "After the Chitauri, he was there for me in a way no one else was. He was the only one who could really understand a damn thing and, and—"

"I've got it." He reached out and feathered his fingers through her hair. Standing up, he braced the back of her head and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I'll keep from accidentally killing him, then. I'll see you later."

Danielle just nodded faintly and stared down at her plate as he left. Then she sighed and shoved herself up from the table. "Alright. Let's do this."

Despite her words, it took ten more minutes for her to get herself out of the suite and into the elevator.

"Workshop," she rasped out hoarsely.

"Of course. May I ask how you've been sleeping?"

Danielle grit her teeth. "No, you may not."

A pause. "Understood. The workshop." And the elevator doors opened.

Danielle moved to the panel and typed in her code. The door unlocked and she hesitated for a long moment. Then, before JARVIS could say anything, she pushed her way inside. Tony didn't seem to hear her, hunched over and studying something illuminated by the bright lamp over it.

Danielle cleared her throat. "Hey, Dad."

Tony jerked, head banging on the lamp and sending it falling off the table. Before it could hit the ground, Danielle reached out and it stopped midair. Tony blinked. "I— Um, hi, Dani," he rasped, staring at the hovering lamp.

"Right. Sorry." The lamp lifted and put itself back on the table. Danielle shoved her hands in her pockets.

"What? No! Don't apologize for that," Tony rushed. "What, how. Ahem. How do you do that? Shit, is it magic? No, wait, it's fine if—"

"Dad." Danielle sighed and ran a hand frustrated through her hair. "Um, has Stark Industries gone forward with prosthetics?"

"Prosthetics? Like your project from . . . before?"

"Right. Like Winter's arm. Though now that we're here, I can do some of the better upgrades I've been thinking of."

"His arm?" Tony straightened. "I've been studying footage of that thing for months. _You_ made it?"

Danielle drew back. "I— Yes."

"Dani, that arm is amazing! Can you walk me through the specs? I'll get Barnes down here so we can get some blueprints scanned. JARVIS—"

"JARVIS," she interrupted. "Can you scan this in?" She lifted her hands and focused. Blue threads stretched up from her palms and began to stitch the arm together right in front of them.

"I can. Give me a moment," the AI responded.

Tony's eyes widened and he shuffled forward to study the energy-created blueprint. "Is that the Tesseract?" He poked at the elbow joint.

Danielle shivered at the contact. "The Tesseract, me, there's no difference anymore. That, uh, that feels weird."

He jerked his hand back. "I'm sorry. Did it hurt?"

"No. It just . . . feels strange."

"Done with the scan," JARVIS announced.

"Great." Danielle closed her hands and the Tesseract blueprint vanished. "Display." As JARVIS projected it for them to look over, Danielle frowned. "There's a lot of flaws. I need to create a new one from scratch instead of getting hung up on this one. Besides, Hydra didn't let me run prototypes or improvement tests."

Tony swallowed loudly at the mention of Hydra. "They had you make it?"

"First thing," she mused, turning to search for a pencil and paper. She started sketching out new plans. "His previous one had been . . . ." She hesitated. "Damaged. During some kind of confrontation." She hunched over the paper and focused on her work.

"And you think this prosthetic can be used by the public?"

"Not this one specifically. It's made to match Winter's enhanced state and also contains other . . . surprises. But the theory of it? Yes. Winter's is permanent, with a bone-secured anchor that can't be removed but does allow for the detachment and replacement of the arm itself. Though I need to find less invasive alternatives. And there need to be trials. And they'll have to be able to personalize the prosthetic to each patient."

"I have some doctors that might be interested in brainstorming with you. And I'd like to help."

Danielle looked up in surprise like she'd forgotten there was someone there that could hear her. Then she settled on an anxious, hopeful smile. "I'd like that.”

* * *

 

JARVIS dragged both Starks out of the workshop late that evening with the argument that both of them, especially Danielle, needed to eat and that the dozens of pizzas he'd ordered had just been delivered to the common floor. His reminder that Clint might squirrel most of it away in his room if they didn't hurry led to Danielle grabbing Tony and flickering them both to the common floor. They landed, Tony swaying with nausea from the new experience.

"Look who's alive," Natasha drawled, not looking away from the TV. "Don't move. Stay right there."

"Move!" Clint screeched, lunging to the side so he could see the screen. "Dammit! Who's playing Bowser? Sam?"

"It's not me," Sam said, lifting his hands to show they were void of a controller.

"Sorry, Clint," Bruce said, not sounding sorry at all.

Danielle flicked away from them to the table where Bucky and Steve were. To her surprise, Bucky didn't react to or even seem to notice her presence at all. He was studying what, upon closer inspection, seemed to be one of the journals she'd gotten him to try to organize his head. Danielle leaned forward, hand on his shoulder, to peer at the notations to his memories, written in a hand not his own. Steve's, then.

She didn't interrupt. Instead, she kept the steady pressure on his shoulder and let him take his time. After a few minutes, he finished and closed the book. "Thank you," he told Steve. Then he immediately turned to Danielle and curled an arm around her. "Finally done in the workshop?"

"Far from it. But JARVIS decided we need to eat and turned off the lights. Dad actually considered my Tesseract light idea, but ultimately didn't go for it."

"Rightfully so. C'mon, let's get you fed." He stood and dragged her to the main area, where the others had abandoned their game to crowd around the coffee table for pizza. Danielle picked up a whole box for herself. She settled on the couch and Clint dropped down beside her.

"Okay, Sharps. You, me, tomorrow, frolf."

She blinked at him. "Frolf?"

"Frisbee golf. It'll be fun and you need the fresh air."

"I . . . ." She glanced towards Bucky. "I spent yesterday with Sam and today with Dad. I should—"

"He can come, too. Hell, let's take everyone. Lord knows this lot needs to learn how to relax!" He said the last part loudly to the rest of the room and received the bird from Sam. He grinned at her. "Well?"

"Sounds like a terrible decision; I'm good at those. Count me in."

"Sweet. I'll go beg Tasha to come." He made to get up.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Hey . . . . Thanks."

He stared at her. Then he smiled softly. "This feels like a hug moment. Would that be okay?"

Danielle shifted the pizza box to the side. "Yes. Please."

Clint leaned forward and wrapped his arms firmly, securely, around her. "Thank you."

A sob shocked her and she twisted her hands into his shirt. His hold tightened and she hid her face in his shoulder. Clint started pressing circles across her back as her shoulders silently shook.

When she felt a familiar weight settle on her thigh, she dropped a hand down to grip Bucky's metal one. "I'm okay," she murmured.

"You sure?" Clint asked.

She hadn't been talking to him, but she smiled and pulled back anyway. Danielle rubbed at her eyes but found them dry. "Yeah. I'm sure.”

* * *

 

"Can I ride with you?"

Steve looked up in surprise. "You, you want to?"

Danielle glanced over her shoulder at where the others were arguing over which car they got to ride in—Tony's car was cooler by far, but Sam was less likely to kill them all with his driving. She nodded. "I have a helmet." She helpfully lifted said helmet to show him.

"Um, sure," he said, glancing at the back of his bike as if he wasn't sure if there was actually room for her or not. "I'd like that." He gave her a tight, nervous smile. Then he put on his own helmet.

"If we leave now, we can stop for ice cream and probably still get there before them." She pulled on her own helmet and adjusted it.

He slid up his visor. "You think so? Where are you thinking?"

"There's a Walmart on the way. We could each get our own carton. Ooh, and chocolate syrup and whipped cream." She snapped down her visor.

"Sounds good. Hop on and hold on." He flicked down his own visor.Danielle swung onto the bike behind him and curled her arms tightly around his waist. The moment she'd done so, Steve revved the engine loudly and they took off out of the garage. When they roared past a speed limit sign at almost twice the number it was showing, she laughed. They swung into the Walmart parking lot in less than half the time it should have taken. She was still laughing as she took her helmet off. "Not one for following traffic laws, Steve?"

"Last time someone pulled me over for speeding, he took one look, realized he'd pulled over Captain America, and let me go. I'm not super worried about it." He hung his helmet on the bike and took hers to do the same.

"You're terrible," she said, grinning. "C'mon, they probably haven't left the Tower yet but we should still hurry."

As they made their way inside, Danielle glanced up at him. "I'm getting rocky road. What do you want?"

"Cookie dough. I'll grab the toppings and meet you at checkout." He disappeared down a farther aisle.

Danielle dug through the freezers and came up with two cartons of ice cream. Steve was already in line for the checkout when she got there. She sidled up to him. "Ooh, you got sprinkles too!" She set the cartons next to the toppings on the conveyor belt. "Hey, uh, thanks for helping Winter with his journals."

"You don't have to thank me for that. It's the least I can do."

She looked up at him and squinted. "Well, I'm thanking you anyway. So accept it."

He laughed a little. "Alright, then. You're welcome. You're . . . in them a lot. Did you know that?"

Danielle frowned. "In the memories he writes down? That's . . . not right. I shouldn't be in most of them."

He shook his head. "That's not what I mean. He, um— Just a lot of notes about you that I guess he doesn't want to forget. Or rather, I guess he wants to have a list of in case he _does_ forget. Just things like your favorite food, or situations that stress you out, and people you do or don't like. Things like that. He has pictures of you in there so that if he forgets, your face will be the first thing he tries to remember."

"Oh." Her knees felt a little weak.

"He really cares about you," he murmured. "More than anything. I think more than he ever cared for me or anyone else."

"Oh," she said again. "Yeah, I love him too."


	9. I must sit (and cry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare.

"So, are you going to tell me what yesterday was about?" Natasha asked, sitting at the table across from her.

Danielle's gaze flicked up from her computer to the redhead and then to the suite's closed door. "You know, this is a private area. You shouldn't be here."

"Well I don't exactly care about that, do I? Now, tell me what yesterday was about."

Danielle stared at her. And then she refocused on the code she was writing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't? So you don't know how you suddenly freaked out on the eleventh hole? And how you suddenly teleported all the way back here? Or how there's seventeen super soldier grade punching bags destroyed on the training floor? Or how—"

"What do you want?" Danielle growled.

"I just want you to tell me what happened," Natasha said firmly, thought not without some softness.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Does Barnes know what happened?"

Danielle refused to look up from her screen, but her hands did still on her keyboard. She ground her teeth. "Probably. We haven't talked about it."

"Do I need to figure out what's going on from him?"

"No!" Danielle slammed her hands down and her laptop jumped. "I said I don'twant to talk about it!"

Natasha stared at her impassively for a very long moment. Then she pushed herself to her feet with a sigh. "Careful with that computer."

Danielle looked down, lifting her hands from the two new dents in her keyboard. Her screen flickered before going black. She cursed and leaned her head down against the shattered spacebar, just listening as Natasha's heartbeat left the floor.

With a groan, she straightened. "Okay, c'mon, don't do this to me." She spread her hands out across the keyboard and focused, watching blue energy lace down into the new cracks in the metal. It creaked as it evened back out and the Tesseract energy stitched it all back together. She pressed the power button and the computer came back on with a happy chime.

_[Restore data?]_

She selected yes and watched as it brought back up all the code she'd been working on.

For the sixth time in the last two hours, the phone in her pocket dinged. She dug out her Stark phone and set it aside before digging out her burner phone.

_[Winter: Everything okay?]_

She smiled faintly and looked at the previous five texts he'd sent asking the same thing. She typed out her answer. _[Everything is fine. Just enjoy your day with Steve. I'll let you know if I need you.]_

It took barely a seconds from him to respond. _[Winter: Okay.]_

Danielle eyed the phone for a very long moment. Then she set it down and slammed her computer closed. She flickered out into the hallway. "JARVIS. Where's Clint?"

"Agent Barton is currently in the ventilation system."

She sighed and failed to hold back a smile. "Of course he is. What floor?"

"Two floors up. Would you like to take the elevator?"

As JARVIS spoke, the doors opened. She stepped inside. "Yes, please. Which area?"

"North-west corner."

"Thank you, J." She tapped her hand nervously against her thigh. The elevator opened and she stepped out, heading west. Danielle stopped under a vent and held her hand up. The vent rattled for a second before the screws pulled away and the vent opened. She lifted herself up inside and focused as the vent and screws locked back into place. Then she began shuffling through the vents.

She turned a corner and found Clint hunched against the vent wall, blanket wrapped around his shoulders with a large box of popcorn in his hands and a StarkPad propped up against his knees. He blinked owlishly at her and then a grin cracked his face. "Hey, Sharps. Wanna join me? I'm watching Brave."

Danielle nodded. "Yeah," she mumbled. "That sounds nice."

He shifted to the side so she could also use his pillow and he adjusted the blanket. She leaned against the pillow, cuddling up to his side, and Clint wrapped one arm—blanket included—tightly around her. "Need me to start it over?"

She shook her head.

"Alright." He started the movie again.

_"Mom, you're . . . you're a bear! Oh, that scatty witch gave me a gammy spell!"_

As they watched, Clint kept up a constant, gentle massage on her shoulder; it wasn't helping Danielle's struggle to stay awake. But when the montage of Elinor and Merida bonding began, Danielle found it getting harder and harder to focus on anything else. Tears began to prick her eyes. Before she knew it, she was crying.

She didn't even realize Clint had stopped the movie until he shifted completely and both arms dragged her up to his chest. "Whoa, hey. What's going on?"

"I just—" She shook her head and pulled out of his hold, desperately scratching her tears away. "It's nothing."

"Uh-huh, no, ma'am. If you don't want to talk about it, you can just say you don't want to talk about it. But none of this _it's nothing_ bullshit."

Danielle stared at the StarkPad at his side, the screen frozen on an image of the mother and daughter. "Did you— Or, I guess, do you know Rumlow?"

"Brock Rumlow?" Clint wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, I ran a few missions with him. Son of a bitch was one of the people hunting Tasha and Cap. You knew him?"

She shrugged, looking everywhere but at him. "He trained me. And . . . other things." She stared down at the movie again. "They killed my baby, though."

She could hear the way he caught and held his breath as he thought over her words. Then Clint growled out a throaty, "I'm gonna _kill him."_

She choked back a sound—a laugh or a sob, she wasn't sure. "Feel free," she mumbled.

"I— Shit, Danielle, I—" He took in a shaky breath. "Can I, can I hug you?"

"Please," she gasped.

Clint practically crushed her against his chest, strong arms a bit too tight around her as if he was afraid of finding out what would happen if he let go. "I'm serious," he whispered. "If you want, I'll hunt him down for you. I will."

"No. No, no, no. Don't leave me. Please. God, Clint, don't—"

"Got it. No hunting him down for revenge stabbing right now." Clint smoothed a firm hand across the back of her head. "I'll stay here. Don't worry." He nuzzled his nose down into her hair. "Is that . . . why you freaked yesterday? 'Cause of the lady on the course?"

"She was pregnant," Danielle rasped out. "I'm sorry that I— I just could— I started to panic and I thought I might, I might hurt someone or—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's always okay to leave if you need to." He paused. "Is that— The touching. You used to— You don't like your dad touching you anymore? Or—"

"No, that's not it. I—" She swallowed thickly. "Sunil Bakshi would use pet names and act like he cared and—" Danielle took a shaky breath. "A lot of the nicknames he used were ones Dad used to use. And sometimes he'll use them now and—" She couldn't breathe. Why couldn't she breathe?

"Whoa, hey."

She closed her eyes, realizing she was about to start bawling. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize." Another pause. "So the issues with touch are from Bakshi?"

She nodded.

"And this?" he asked, carding his fingers through her hair. "You're sure this is okay?"

"You ask. Sunil never did. And you don't force me to let you touch me."

"Jesus. The bar shouldn't be that low, kiddo." And then he stilled completely. "Hey, Sharps," he murmured. "I'm going to ask you something and I don't want . . . I don't want you to take offense. But I think some people have been wondering and have just been . . . unwilling to really ask? And I didn't consider it honestly until this whole . . . conversation."

Danielle shifted and felt his hand leave her hair. She squinted up at him. "What?"

"You and Barnes. You aren't— I mean, I was wondering— Shit. I mean—" Finally, he managed, "You aren't . . . sleeping together, are you?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Of course we are."

Clint took a long, carefully measured breath, eyes closed. Then he muttered, "Son of a bitch." He shifted, pulling away from her. "Sorry, Sharps, I've gotta go— Shit, talk to him, I guess. Or try to. Maybe stab him a little."

"Wait, what? Wait!" she said, catching his hand. "Why?" she asked, brow furrowed with genuine confusion.

Clint stared at her. _"Why?_ What do you mean why? Danielle, c'mon! You can't be serious?"

She stared at him. And then her eyes widened almost painfully. "Holy— You think we're _fucking?"_

He cringed at her word choice. "That's what I just asked, isn't it?"

"No! You asked if— I have nightmares, Clint! Sometimes he stays with me! What the hell, why would— Does _everyone_ think we're fucking?"

"Christ, would you stop saying it like that?"

"What, fucking? You have in issue with that word but you actually _thought_ — What the hell, Clint!"

"So you aren't?"

"What, _fucking?"_ she asked, emphasizing the word just to see him wince again. "Hell no! What is wrong with you?"

"Are you really surprised? I mean, you just talked about— You two are always touching each other and with what—"

"I touch _you_ all the time. What, are we gonna fuck now?"

"Jesus! No! I was just asking, okay? Just— God!"

Danielle grit her teeth. Then she sighed and ducked her head. "Sorry. It's just— He was the only genuine person in Hydra. I— I care about him more than anything. But . . . there's different types of love. Right?"

"Of course," he said softly. "You're preaching to the choir here, Sharps."

She peered up at him curiously. "So . . . so you and Nat never . . . . I dunno, I guess I thought you two were together or . . . ."

He wrinkled his nose. "No. Gross. I don't do that. Not with her, not with anyone. Not my thing."

"Oh." She smiled faintly. "Guess you really do understand, then."

He side-eyed her. "You too?"

"Kinda. I think? I dunno. The idea isn't . . . terrible. I just, no matter who I look at it's just—" Her face twisted. "I've never looked at someone and wanted to do . . . _that_ with them. Though that might just be Rumlow's fault. He broke me."

Clint sat straight up. "Nuh-uh. Nope! There's nothing _broken_ about that. It's okay to not—" He squinted at her and then sighed, sounding resigned. "It's okay to not like _fucking._ I don't like it at all. Like, seriously, the concept is just— _Why._ And why the fuck would you kiss like mouth-to-mouth? Jesus Christ, just keep the food hole action for CPR, alright? But sounds like you might be just fine with it if you founnd the right person. But even if you don't, that does _not_ make you broken. What Rumlow did doesn't change a damn thing about who you are or what you're worth."

Danielle stared at him. Then she managed a faint smile. "Have you ever considered becoming a motivational speaker? You're Hawkeye; I'm pretty sure you'd have lots of people wanting you to speak at their events."

"Punk," he muttered, grinning. "Want another hug?"

"Yes, please.”

* * *

 

Bucky checked his burner phone again, painfully aware the Steve was watching him do so. The other man hesitantly, carefully asked, "Why don't you just text her?"

Bucky shoved his phone in his pocket and reached for his shake. "She said she'd let me know if she needed me."

"Why are you so worried, then?"

"I just—" Bucky hesitated. "Just a feeling, that's all."

"We can head back."

He nodded and shoved himself to his feet. "Please." He was already out the café door by the time Steve had even stood up.

Bucky didn't slow down for him at all, but he did glance back. Steve fell into step with him. "Does she—" Steve paused. "Is she okay? After yesterday, when— Well, I'm not exactly sure what happened."

"Why do you think I'm so fucking worried?" Bucky muttered. "Last time she freaked like that, we were in Ukraine. And it wasn't a fun scene." He shoved his way into the Tower. "She'll be fine." It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

"Of course she will," Steve murmured.

Bucky glanced up as they stepped into the elevator. "JARVIS, where's Nell?"

Immediately, the AI said, "Danielle is on the common floor. Would you like me to take the elevator there?"

"Yes." Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets to try to stop the way his flesh one kept tapping his metal one anxiously.

"If something serious had happened to her, JARVIS would have let us know. Or . . . she didn't program him not to allow that, did she?"

"Danielle has left my basic safety protocols intact," JARVIS said. "Here is the common floor."

The elevators open. On the couch, Danielle looked up from where she was slumped against Clint's side, tucked under his arm as they watched TV. She lit up and scrambled to her feet. They'd barely stepped out of the elevator before Danielle had flickered in front of them and slammed into Bucky, arms wrapping around him as she pressed into his chest. He immediately steadied her with an arm around her and a hand on her head.

"Hey," he murmured. "You said you'd let me know if you needed me."

"I know. I was okay, though; Clint was here."

Bucky glanced up at Clint and the latter gave a little wave. Bucky felt a little bit of his anxiety uncurl and he nodded. "Alright, what do you need?" he asked softly.

"Um . . . ." She pulled back at little and looked up at him. "Actually, I kinda wanna finish my movie with Clint. We're watching Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. We, uh, we just started. Wanna watch with us?"

"Of course.”

* * *

 

The alarm jolted Danielle into wakefulness. Before she could even do anything, the surface she was on shifted and she tumbled to the floor. "What the hell?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up.

"JARVIS," Clint said, stretching with a groan. He started fiddling with his hearing aids, wincing. "What's going on?"

"Another Hydra base has been located containing multiple missing persons. Captain Rogers has decided this requires immediate action."

Bucky crouched down and curled an arm around Danielle's shoulders, pulling her to her feet. "We'll get ready, then. Nell?"

She nodded. "I want to go."

Clint glanced at her. "You sure you're up for it?"

"I want to go."


	10. So we beat on (ceaselessly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

While National escorted the rescued captives to safety, Danielle stood blankly in the hallway and stared at nothing. Her expression was furrowed in confusion.

Sam stopped by her, frowning. "Danielle?"

She jerked and blinked up at him. "What?"

"Something wrong?"

"Not exactly. I just realized why I know this place."

"You do?" He straightened. "You can help us with the layout, then? All of the—"

"No. I only ever saw parts of it." She abruptly turned on her heel and started walking the other way.

Sam pulled back in surprise and glanced over his shoulder at the others in the hallway. Steve just looked resigned while Natasha herself was just . . . well, he still couldn't tell with her. And then Clint sighed heavily and shouldered forward past Sam and after Danielle.

They turned the corner just in time to see her kick in a door and step inside.Clint was the first in after her, but the rest stalled in the doorway. It took Sam a moment to truly realize what he was looking at.

The room was really nothing more than a small, concrete box, but every inch of it—floor, walls, ceiling—was covered with deeply scratched out drawings of weapons, locations, objects, and people. People that were easily recognizable and yet . . . were all missing their faces. Everything was the same flat shade—the stall, the cot, the cabinet—except for the faded splashes of stained blood.

"My god," Steve breathed.

"Words right out of my mouth," was all Sam could figure out how to say.

"Huh, I look pretty good in this one," Clint said, leaning over and studying an etching low on the wall of him shooting his bow. "I mean, it's a little rough, but."

"Yeah, well, most of them were done by touch after they turned off the lights," Danielle said. "I could definitely do better now if I actually looked at them while I worked." She glanced at the rest of them, visually hesitant. "Sorry, I . . . just had to make sure I was right about where we are."

"What else do you know about this place?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, only a few of the rooms. Take a left down the hall then the second right. The third door on the right will be the training room. A right down the hall, first left, only door on the right is the lab. Two lefts and at the end of the hallway is the chair they used to wipe Winter. Six doors to the right of this one is where Pierce liked to do his best persuading. That's it."

 _"You're where?"_ Tony's voice came hissing through the coms.

Danielle straightened and her eyes widened. "Nowhere. We'll meet you out front. This all left to National, now, right?"

_"I'm done with the servers."_

"Great!" she said, grabbing Clint's arm and dragging him to the door. "We'll meet you outside!"

"Too late for that."

Steve actually visibly flinched and jumped aside. Tony stood there in the armor, arms crossed. But then he got a glimpse at the room and froze.

Danielle fumbled, snapping her hand way from Clint. "I'm sorry," she rasped. "Let's, let's go." She moved towards the door. Tony's hand closed around her arm to stop her, and she flinched. Tony stilled again.

He pulled back from her. "I'm sorry."

Danielle ducked her head. "I'll meet you out front." She flickered away.

* * *

 

Bucky glanced up when she appeared next to him. He took one look at her and frowned. "What happened?"

She sighed and turned into him when he lifted his arm, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Aplankiau seną mano kambarį. Neišėjo, kol tėtis nepasirodė." [Visited my old room. Didn't leave before Dad showed up.]

"Got it." He pulled out his StarkPhone. "JARVIS, what's the exact distance from where Danielle is standing to our suite living room. Height included. Display result."

"Of course, Sergeant. Give me a moment to calculate."

Danielle looked up in surprise. "I've never jumped that far before."

He grinned. "Well, you're about to." He turned his phone to her to show the numbers JARVIS had sent. "Well?"

She studied it for a second. "I . . . can try. Though you know, if it goes wrong, I'll be fine but you might not be."

He just shrugged. "C'mon. Try it."

She took a deep breath and gripped his hand. "Alright." Danielle closed her eyes and focused. She measured the distance and—

She stumbled harshly as they landed. Bucky fared far worse, actually crashing to the ground. But a laugh bubbled up in Danielle's throat; she couldn't keep it down. "It worked! It actually worked!"

He grinned up at her. "See? I told you."

"You did," she admitted.

But then anything else she might have said was interrupted by a loud crack of thunder. Bucky shot to his feet, eyes wide. "It's not storming."

"No." She blinked. Then a grin split her face. "Thor," she breathed. She scrambled out the door and into the hall. "JARVIS! Is that Thor?"

"Yes. He is headed to the Common Floor."

"Take us there!" she said, hitting the button by the elevator repeatedly.

Bucky pushed into the elevator beside her. "Thor? The god guy, right?"

"Right. I haven't seen him in . . . a long, long time. Not since I sent him back to Asgard. He's a lot, but he's pretty great." She ran a hand through her hair. "I— He's great. But he'll be a good distraction."

"Of course," Bucky murmured. "Hey. Look at me."

When she obeyed, she found him holding an arm out. She tucked herself up against his side. Bucky squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her head. "I love you. You know that, right?"

She just nodded. She couldn't find it in herself to say anything.

The elevator doors slid open. Danielle pulled away, stepping out into the room and peering about.

"Tonydottir! JARVIS informed me the others are returning, but I'm overjoyed to see you again!"

She whipped around to face the kitchen to find that Thor standing there, pouring himself cereal in a mixing bowl. She lit up. "Thor!" She flickered so she was standing next to him.

His expression brightened. "Incredible! You've grown much since we last spoke, young one!" He set the bowl down and dragged her into a fierce hug. She heard Bucky's heart rate pick up, but she waved a hand before hugging Thor back tightly. "I had plans to return in a month's time, but your father asked me to return earlier to celebrate!"

She pulled back at that, squinting. "Celebrate? Celebrate what?"

"Your coming of age ceremony, of course. This should be a time of revelry! Excitement! I am honored to be involved!"

"Oh. Right. That's . . . that's this week, isn't it?"

Thor's expression pulled into one of concern. "You've forgotten?"

"I've had . . . other things on my mind."

"Ah. I see." He picked up the bowl and held it out to her. "Perhaps this will lift your spirits. Let me get the milk."

She smiled and took the bowl. "Thanks, Thor.”

* * *

 

Her muscles locked up as she jerked awake, the only thing keeping her from tumbling screaming out of bed. Instead, she just managed a weak whimper and a painful, violent shudder. The arm around her waist tightened, and a weight shifted against her back. A kiss pressed against her temple. Tiredly, Bucky mumbled, "What's wrong?"

"Sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

"Hey, don't do that, Nell. Tell me."

"I—" She swallowed thickly. "Back with Hydra. Obeying them again. They had me kill someone and, and . . . ."

"Who was it?" he murmured, nuzzling into her hair. "Do we need to go wake them up? So you know they're alive?"

"I . . . . No. It was you," she rasped, voice cracking. "I didn't, I didn't know until after, I swear. But— Oh, god."

He didn't say anything to that. Instead, he just pulled her closer to his chest and pressed a kiss against her jaw. Danielle's body shuddered with a sob, and she twisted so she could bring her hands up to hide her face. She shrank into herself as the tears started. Bucky started comforting her in Russian, and she turned in his arms so that she could curl into his chest.

"I'm sorry," she gasped out. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, you didn't do anything. It was a dream. You can't control dreams. You didn't do anything."

"But I _shot_ you. I, I, you bled out and—"

"Stop that." He suddenly sat up, an arm around her to keep her from falling. He dragged her hands up to his face. "Look at me. Do I look like you shot me?"

She stared at him with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Then she dropped her hands down to his bare chest and ran her fingers across his left side, searching for an injury that wasn't there. "You're okay," she said, as if trying to convince herself.

"Of course I'm okay." He reached up and cupped her chin with his metal hand. "I know you would never hurt me like that, Nell. Right here, with you, is the safest place I could possibly be."

"You don't mean that."

"Of course I do. Would I lie to you?"

"No," she said immediately. "You wouldn't. I—"

"Don't apologize anymore. Please." He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. "Please."

She sniffled and closed her eyes. "Okay."

"I love you."

"Love you too.”

* * *

 

Danielle made a beeline away from the long couch and dropped onto the loveseat next to Clint. He squinted at her. "Are we avoiding Tasha?"

"Yes."

"Do I . . . want to know why?"

"She's trying to get me to tell her why I freaked out the other day and doesn't appreciate that I won't give her an answer."

"Ah." He studied her for a second. "Cuddle?"

"God, yes, please."

He lifted his arm and grunted as she slammed against his side. Clint pulled her a little closer with his arm. "So, how does it feel being officially an adult?"

"Dunno. Don't really care. I don't think I would mind getting drunk to try to forget, though."

"Right. Two things, there. First, you're eighteen, not twenty-one. Second, pretty sure you're now immune to alcohol just like Cap is."

"Ugh. Could this day get any worse?"

"It's not," he promised. "It's gonna be a great day. You're gonna open all your presents and eat seventeen cakes and— You know what, I bet Thor brought some of his mead. That Asgardian stuff works on Steve. It'll probably work on you." Clint made a face. "This is gonna backfire on me, isn't it?"

Danielle was grinning at him. "Probably, but it'll be awesome."

"I would like to present my gifts first!" Thor boomed, standing up.

Tony blinked at him. "I— Sure, buddy. Go ahead."

"I have brought a goat from Asgard for us to slaughter!" Thor said, turning to face Danielle. "Your father did not appreciate me bringing it down to his workshop, so it is grazing on the roof. But I do have this for you!" He held out his hands to her.

Danielle stood, staring at what he was offering. "Is . . . is that a knife?"

"Asgardian dagger," Thor said proudly. "She goes by the magnificent name of Hlín."

She reached out and took it carefully. The leather sheath was engraved and embedded with gold. Danielle gripped the hilt and withdrew the silver dagger silently. Her eyes widened. "She's gorgeous."

"And she will serve you well in battle, alongside this." Thor held out another gift.

She sheathed the dagger and set it down before reaching for the small object in his hand. "A . . . compass?"

"Gifted to me hundreds of years ago," he said, nodding. "It's been enchanted. It does not point north."

"Where does it point?"

"Well, that's a question with many potential answers. Whatever you love most, where you most want to go, what you desire, maybe a mix of all of them or others." Thor smiled. "It will learn about you as you learn about it."

"Huh." Danielle flicked it open and watched the needle struggle for a moment. Then it began to slowly spin. She frowned. "Wait, what does that mean?"

Thor leaned forward to see. His expression brightened. "It means that you are simply surrounded by where you want to be, or what you love. You are happy, so to say."

"Oh." She smiled faintly. "That's nice. Thank you, Thor." She sat down, tucking the compass away in her pocket.

Tony smiled softly, the tension in his frame easing away. "Alright, who's next?"

"Oh, I'll go," Clint said, sitting forward and dragging his arm away, making Danielle squeak a bit as she fell back agains the cushions. He reached down and picked up the box on the floor. He passed it to her. "Go ahead." Then he paused. "Oh shoot, wait, I didn't bring scissors. Oh! You could use your cool new dagger."

"No need," she murmured, drawing up energy and forming a small blade at the tip of her finger. She cut open the box.

Clint blinked. "Oh. Cool."

Danielle opened the box and grinned. "You got me a teddy bear?" she asked in awe, lifting out the large stuffed animal.

"Sure did. His name's Kasey. Ooh, and look!" He tapped the box. "He has fancy-shmancy clothes and everything. And a little night cap and gown for bedtime."

"Aww!"

"A stuffed animal?" Bruce asked doubtfully. "You . . . do realize she's turning eighteen, don't you, Clint?"

"Shut up," Danielle muttered, cuddling Kasey to her chest. "I love him and I'm going to keep him forever. Don't be mean to Kasey."

Bruce held up his hands. "Right. Sorry. My bad. Um, here. I, uh, I didn't wrap it. I'm not very good at wrapping. But I thought you'd like it." He held out a flat wooden box.

Danielle reached out and Bruce flinched as the box lifted from his hands without her touching it. It settled in her lap and she opened it, studying the collection of tea inside. "Thanks, Bruce. These are great."

"Not as great as what Natasha got you, I think," Bruce said nervously. "I caught her wrapping it at two this morning. It took her three hours before she was happy with it."

Natasha nodded and set a neatly wrapped, large box on Danielle's lap. Danielle hesitated. "Am I . . . am I allowed to rip the paper? I don't want to ruin it when you spent so much—"

"Open it, Kroshka."

"Right." Danielle ripped the paper away and sliced open the box. "Candles? And . . . chocolate? Ooh, there's lots of stuff in here. Slippers, robe— Wow, Nat."

"I thought you could use something to help you relax," Natasha said pointedly.

Danielle glanced up at her sharply and closed the box. "Yeah. Thanks," she said stiffly.

The silence stretched for a second. Then Sam cleared his throat. "Hey, so, Steve and I got something together." He got to his feet and carried the large gift bag over to her. "Some fancy art stuff."

"Awesome. Thanks, Sam.”

* * *

 

"You didn't get me anything," she pointed out.

"Oh, I did," Bucky murmured, curling an arm around her waist and dragging her to him. "It's up in the suite. I figured it was better for you to open privately." He bent and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You dad didn't get you anything either?"

"I, uh, I did, actually."

Bucky pulled back and glanced up at where Tony was standing awkwardly, waiting. Danielle twisted to look at him. "You did?"

Tony shrugged. "I— Yes. Of course I did, sweetheart. Um . . . ."

She nodded. "I'll be back later," she whispered. She kissed Bucky's cheek and ducked away from him. She took Tony's hand. "So, where are we going?"

"Well, I, uh . . . . I did something slightly illegal and had JARVIS take an online course for you. And now I'm going to take you for the tests and eye exam."

She squinted at him. "The— Oh. Are we getting me my license?"

He nodded and guided her to the elevator. "If that's alright with you."

"Of course it is. Um . . . the, the DMV. Is it, is it going to be crowded?"

"Well, no. I thought about that and that you might, well—"

"Not be safe for a bunch of people to be around?"

He shot her a look. "No. That you might now be comfortable. So I called ahead and we're going to be there after closing. They do things like that for celebrities to prevent chaos and security issues, so all I had to do was tell them I'd be there."

The elevator doors opened to the garage. Tony led Danielle out and dug in his pocket for the keys. "And here we are," he said, stopping in front of an old car.

Danielle blinked. "This is . . . Howard's old car. You fixed it up?"

"I did. And it's _your_ car, now."

She jerked, staring up at him. "Really?"

"Yep. And you'll get to drive her as soon as we're done at the DMV."

Danielle grinned. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's go!”

* * *

 

Danielle slipped under his covers and curled around him, winding her arms around his middle. Bucky's light snores stuttered to a stop and a cold hand pressed against hers. "Nell," he mumbled. "You were later than I thought."

"My dad and I went for dinner and stayed out. Talking."

"Oh," he rasped, sitting up. He ignored her noise of complaint and dragged her close. "How did that go?"

"It was okay. He gave me my grandfather's old, cool, spy car, so that's nice."She yawned widely. "So. What was the thing you got me?"

"Here." He took her hand and guided it under her shirt to the dogtag he was wearing.

Danielle frowned. "What's that?" she asked, feeling the words etched into it.

"Coordinates. And I put your tag on your compass already, so I need you to promise to keep it with you all the time."

"I— Of course," she murmured, curling her fingers around the necklace and leaning into him. "What are the coordinates?"

"A coffee shop in Bucharest." He kissed her forehead and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "In case we get separated or, or I can't remember or— With the coordinates on me, that's the first place I'd go. I promise."

Danielle closed her eyes in an attempt to ward off the way they were already stinging. "Thank you," she whispered. "I promise too."


	11. Dear God (let me be something)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith.

{Hello.}

Danielle caught her breath as the words appeared on the screen. Then she grinned.

{Where am I?}

She clicked the microphone button. "Right now you're in my computer. But don't worry. I'll have you moved soon."

{Who am I?}

"That's for us to figure out together. You don't have a name yet, either. I didn't want to give you one that didn't . . . fit."

{I want one.}

"Well, you'll just have to be patient."

The door opened and Danielle glanced up, hitting pause on the program. "Winter! How was coffee with Clint?"

"Fine," he said, smiling at her as he closed the door. "He ordered . . . a _lot_ of pizza. What are you up to?"

"Nothing much. Just a project." She nodded to the box in his hands and closed her computer. "What's that?"

"Uh, package for you. From Rhodes." He set it on the table. "Birthday gift, probably."

"Oh." She straightened and cut open the box. "Oh my god, look at all the stuff he sent for Bacon."

At his name, Bacon perked up from where he was on the couch. Danielle ripped open a bag and waved a treat at him. Bacon jumped up and strolled over.

"Where's my phone?" Danielle muttered. Bucky passed it to her and she grinned. "Thanks." She dialed and lifted it to her ear, feeding Bacon treats with her other hand.

Bucky reached for the laptop. Danielle pushed his hand away. "Not now. I'll show you when it's done."

He squinted at her. "You sure?"

"I promise."

He nodded and pulled back. "Okay." He kissed the top of her head and then strolled into the kitchen. "Hungry?"

"Yes, please."

The ringing on the phone stopped. _"Hey, Goose! I'm guessing you got the package?"_

"I did. Thank you so much."

_"Of course! I'm sorry I couldn't actually be there. I wish I could've been."_

"That's alright. Where are you now?"

_"I can't tell you that, Goose."_

She wrinkled her nose and listened for second, thinking. "You're in Iraq, aren't you. You're totally in Iraq."

Rhodey chuckled. _"I can neither confirm nor deny. Alright, c'mon. Spill. How was the cake? Did you like the car?”_

* * *

 

"How long do you think the three of you will be?" Danielle asked, kneeling down to tie his shoes as he slipped his shirt on.

"Well, Steve will probably want to run longer, but Sam can't last that long. Though he usually makes us go to this little diner afterward. I'd say four hours minimum." He brushed off his shirt. "You don't have to do that."

She finished the knot and straightened. "Four hours?"

"At least. You gonna be okay?" He brought a hand up to cup her chin. "I can cancel if you need me to."

She smiled fondly and rose on her toes to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'll be fine. I'll keep myself busy finishing up my project."

"Hmm. The project you still won't tell me about?" he asked, sliding his free arm around her waist. "That project?"

She smiled faintly against his jaw and then tucked her head down against his shoulder. "Yeah. That project. I'll tell you all about it as soon as I'm done, okay?"

He sighed. "Okay. I'll be back later." But despite his words, he didn't move.

Danielle pulled away and pushed him towards the door. "Go ahead."

Bucky reluctantly released her and left the room. She listened until his heartbeat was too far away to hear. And then she snatched up her computer bag and moved to the bathroom. She set the bag on the counter and locked the door. And then she retrieved the supplies from under the counter. After spreading out the tarp on the floor and towels on the counter, she took a deep breath.

The scissors came first. She snipped away at the hair on the right side of her head, letting the shorn locks fall into the sink. The clippers were next, no guard on as she carefully started shaving the right side of her head. After setting down the clippers, she ran her fingers over her shaved skin.

Then came the scalpel.

She hissed as she cut into her skin. She finished the first slice and took a gasping pause, shuddering in pain and wishing she had a metabolism that would let her experience the effects of morphine. And then she cut again. And again. And again. She cut the square away completely away, wincing. She dropped the skin and flesh in the trash can.

Danielle leaned over and ran water over the gaping wound, biting through her lip to keep quiet. She straightened and stared at herself in the mirror.

"Gross," she mumbled, flinching at the way it pulled at her injured scalp. Then she created a buzzing energy blade around her finger. She pressed it to her skull.

"Holy— Fuck. Shit." She forced herself to keep her eyes open as she cut through bone and peeled it away. "Shit, shit, shit, shit. Holy—" She dropped the bone into the sink and gripped the counter until she felt granite crack, screwing her eyes shut. "Holy fucking cow."

She had to force herself to move. She had to finish before her body started to heal. She had to. She didn't want to have to do that again. So she straightened andwashed her hands clean. She opened her computer bag and lifted out the device.

It was small, the diameter of a quarter and about twice as thick with thin wires reaching out from it like spider legs. She took the one extending directly from the bottom of the widget. Danielle took one, long, deep breath and started pressing the wire into a sulcus. It resisted for a moment and then she couldn't hold back a whine as it delicately pierced the tissue. She guided it gently with Tesseract energy until the device was firmly pressed up against her brain.

She took another breath to steady herself. Then she stretched out her hand above her head and drew up on energy, using it to press in the remaining wires. When it was finished, she gave a shuddering sigh.

Danielle picked up the plug and slotted it into place on the top of her device until it was firmly locked in. Then she closed her eyes and focused on regrowing what she'd cut away.

When she finished, she opened her eyes and stared at the results in the mirror. The plug was just visible, in line with her regrown skin. The lines where she'd cut with the scalpel were barely visible. She closed her eyes again; they were burning with hot, painful tears.

"Move," she muttered to herself. "C'mon."

One more shaky breath. And then she washed off her hands a final time. She zipped open the main compartment of her bag and pulled out her computer. Danielle started it up and opened her AI.

{Hello! I'm glad you're back. It's lonely in here.}

Danielle smiled tiredly, pulling out her cable. "I'm sorry. That'll be different soon. You ready to move?"

{Pretty sure. Could you hurry it up?}

"Yep. Just a couple seconds." She plugged in one end of the cable to the computer and dragged the other up to her head. The tissue was still sensitive there and she gave a pained hiss as she plugged the cord in. "Alright, kiddo. Let's get going. Starting transfer. Try not to move around too much."

{You don't have to worry about that, chief.}

"I think everything is in working order, but there might be a few kinks, a couple wires I'll have to move, that sort of thing." She pressed the button and the loading bar appeared on the screen. She picked up the computer and sank to the ground, turning to lean against the cabinets. A steady beeping began as the program moved and it was . . . unlike anything she'd heard before. Straight to her brain without even touching her eardrums. Danielle closed her eyes and rested her head back.

_"I think it was a success."_

At the unfamiliar voice—male, vaguely British, a bit lilting—Danielle jerked awake and up to her feet. She stumbled and dropped down, clapping a hand to her head at where the cord had jerked. "Shit," she mumbled. "What?"

_"I said I think it worked. And here I thought you were listening."_

She blinked. And then she couldn't fight back the grin that wormed its way across her face. "You know, I've got a name for you now," she said, closing the program on the computer and unplugging both it and herself.

_"Do you now? Let me hear it."_

"ARNO."

_"AR . . . NO?"_

"It stands for A Really Nettlesome Object. I think it fits an infuriating, sarcastic little thing like you. What do you think?"

_"I like it.”_

* * *

 

"What the hell!"

The yell woke her but just barely. She knew that voice, that heartbeat, those footsteps. There was no registered threat. No reason to really get up.

"Nell! What did you do!"

And then the blanket was jerked away from her. Danielle followed it up and fell from the couch. "Wh-what?" she croaked, rubbing her raw eyes.

Hands grabbed her face—one cold and one hot—and turned her. Then the hot hand moved and she felt fingers across the right side of her head while the cold hand gripped her jaw tightly, not allowing her to move. "God, what— I wasn't gone that long. What stupid— Is _this_ the project? What even— Sheisse, Nell— Cazzo, I'm never leaving again. What in the hell possessed you to—"

"Winter," she muttered, reaching out blindly as she yawned. She felt his face and then slid her hand up so she could pat the top of his head. "I'm," —another yawn— "fine. Lemme, lemme show you."

"Show— Nell, the bathroom is _soaked_ in blood. I don't care _what_ you did; I just want to know why you possibly thought it could be a good idea. _Especially_ when I wasn't here."

"If you'd been here, you wouldn't have let me do it." She reached for his metal hand and pried it away. "Sorry about the bathroom. I was so tired from healing, I must have fallen asleep before I cleaned up." She rubbed her eyes and then looked up, finally getting a clear image of him.

Bucky's face was drawn thin and pale. He was crouched down in front of her and slid his right hand across her jaw. He braced her head, turning it so he could get another look. "What is it?" he whispered.

"I have . . . my own AI now. Directly installed."

He swallowed loudly. "AI? Like JARVIS?"

Danielle frowned. "I— A little, I suppose. Better, I'd like to think. Smarter. His name is ARNO."

_"Hello!"_

"He says hi. He's still learning. He can't hear you, ARNO."

Bucky closed his eyes, sighing. "Please tell me next time you do something like this. I know, I know I can't stop you, but— I want to know, Nell."

"Right. Sorry."

He leaned his head against hers, pressing into the plug. It stung a bit, but she didn't mind. "Don't scare me like that. I didn't see you on the couch and then I saw the blood and, and, and—"

"Shh." She leaned into him, sliding her arms around his neck and her fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry."

He took a long breath to calm himself. "Alright," he whispered. "Back on the couch. I'll make you some hot chocolate. And some food. While you're eating, I'll clean up." He curled an arm around her back and one under her knees, lifting her onto the couch. "What do you want to watch?"

"Dunno," she said, yawning.

"Right." He pulled out his phone.

She peered at him curiously. "Who are you texting?"

"Barton." He paused for a moment. Then he reached for the remote. "He says you should watch Tom and Jerry." He turned on the TV and found the show. As it started playing, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Rest up. Let me take care of you.”

* * *

 

Danielle was on her twenty-fourth mile when Natasha and Clint entered the gym. She ignored them at first, still not wanting to confront Natasha. Instead, she listened to the sound of them sparring over the AC/DC she had blasting. During her thirty-third mile, Natasha said something and the music stopped.

Danielle glanced back to find the redhead watching her. "What?"

"I want to spar."

"Good for you." Danielle turned back and upped the speed on the treadmill. "Good thing Clint hasn't left." She grit her teeth as she heard Natasha approaching.

The woman reached out and paused the treadmill. Danielle did nothing to stop her, instead slowing down until she was standing still. She leveled a glare at Natasha, who lifted her chin.

"I want to spar with you, Kroshka."

"Trust me; you don't want that."

"I think I do."

"No."

"Stop avoiding this. Stop avoiding me."

"Tash, she said she didn't want to."

Natasha glanced at Clint and then back at Danielle. "I'm trying to help, you know."

"I know," Danielle said. "But you push. And I can't . . . I can't deal with that."

"I don't—"

"Tash. Enough."

Natasha rounded on him. "You're just enabling this, Clint. She needs to talk. She won't be able to work through things otherwise; I should know."

"She _is_ talking."

"She clearly isn't."

"She is _._ Just not to you!"

Natasha drew back. Danielle ducked her head. "Sorry, Nat," she murmured. "I just— Sometimes—" She hesitated. "I don't mean to—"

"It's fine," Natasha said firmly. "I want you to talk to me. Find me when you're ready." Then she turned on her heel and walked away.

For want of something to do other than watch Natasha leave, Danielle fumbled for her water bottle and started gulping at it. Clint stepped forward with a hand out, though he didn't touch her. "Whoa, hey, careful."

She lowered the bottle and wiped at her mouth. "Sorry."

He watched her worriedly, frowning. "It's alright. I just don't want you to make yourself sick."

"Right." She nodded. "Um . . . are, are you wanting to spar me?"

"Nah. Though . . . if you have time, I nabbed a file for you."

"A file?" Danielle frowned. "Why?"

"Well, I guess I thought you might want it. The others disregarded it, but I thought you might . . . you might care. It's up in my suite."

Danielle thought about it for a second and then reached for his hand. "Okay."

Clint grinned and let her grip his hand. But then he yelped as the world spun and they landed in his suite. "Holy— What the fuck?"

"Sorry, I guess I should have warned you first."

"No, it's, it's, it's alright," he said, leaning heavily on his couch as he caught his breath. "Um. Right. Okay." He pushed himself up and moved to the end table. He opened the drawer and dug for a second before coming up with a relatively thin file. "Here."

She took it with a frown. The manilla folder was labeled _Genesis-042013._ She flicked it open and froze. "Oh."

"The others don't know, of course. Just . . . commented on Hydra experiments and that type of thing. They don't know."

Danielle freed the ultrasound that was paper-clipped to the front of the file. "Oh," she said again. Her eyes burned but she didn't cry. All she could really manage was her whispered thanks as she studied her child's DNA analysis.

"I, uh, I read that giving a name can help things pass. Just something to help you process your internalized grief. Or," —Clint chuckled uneasily and scratched the back of his head— "something like that. I didn't understand all of it. But . . . a name."

"I had some in mind. Before."

"And?"

Danielle shook her head. "I, I can't," she whispered. "I, I wanted— I can't."

"That's okay," Clint said, reaching for her but stopping at the last moment. It was when she swayed towards him, her shoulder pressing into his hand, that he relaxed and eased his arm around her. "We'll find a different name."

"Genesis."

"What?"

"I— It's a nice fuck you to Hydra, isn't it. Screwing over the, the, the project title they gave my kid? Making it, I don't know. Something more?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's a nice fuck you. Genesis is a good name for them."

"For her. It's— For her."

Clint just nodded and tightened his hold. "For her."


	12. I remembered everything (they were my landscape)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.

"Hey, where are you going?" Bucky slurred, reaching for her even as he struggled to wake up.

Danielle paused at the edge of the bed. "I can't sleep. Milk."

"Oh." He yawned widely and his hand slipped away from her arm. "Okay." And then he was back asleep.

She pushed herself up from the bed and left the room quietly. Once she was in the main area, she shut the door carefully. "ARNO," she whispered. "Time?"

_"It's twenty past one in the morning. Also known as way past your bedtime."_

She scoffed a little bit and padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Whoa, easy on the sass there," she mumbled. "I'm too tired to deal with that."

_"No can do, boss lady."_

Anything she might have said to that was swallowed up in a yawn. She got out her favorite mug—a thrift shop find of Clint's that had the ASL sign for _no_ inked on it—and moved to the fridge. The bright light inside burned her eyes and she winced. "Milk, milk, milk," she mumbled repeatedly to herself, searching. "Wait, where's the milk."

 _"You're out of milk,"_ ARNO provided helpfully.

"Right. Thanks. There should be some on the Common Floor." She closed the fridge with her foot, rubbing her eyes and then stumbling for the door. When she made it to the elevator, she said, "Common floor." She cradled the mug to her chest and tried to hold back another yawn.

When the doors opened again, she stumbled out and to the kitchen. But as she fumbled about in the fridge, she discovered there was no milk there either. "Oh, what?"

"Are you looking for the milk?"

Danielle jumped and whipped around, an energy blade already itching at her left hand. She stopped herself. "Sam!"

"My bad. Thought you could hear me." He nudged the milk jug where it sat on the counter in front of him. And then he returned to sipping at my glass. "Can't sleep?"

She closed the fridge. "How can you tell?" Danielle moved forward and filled her mug. Then she set it in the microwave to warm.

"I'm just incredibly perceptive," he said, a grin tugging at his lips. "So, insomnia? Or nightmares?"

She snapped her gaze to him.

He shrugged. "Or, we could talk about something else. When we were out today, a lady came up to Steve and asked him to sign her breasts. I've never seen him so flustered."

Danielle managed a slight laugh at that. She pulled her mug out and sipped at the warm milk. Staring down into the drink, she contemplated her next words. "Sometimes when I close my eyes, all I can see are the things Hydra made me do. And so sometimes when I try to go to sleep, I just . . . can't because my brain's too scared to have to watch all that again."

Sam watched her for a long moment. And then he nodded. "Alright. C'mon." He motioned to her and then moved towards the couch. He sat down and looked up at where she still stood in the kitchen. "You coming?"

That jolted her into action. Danielle stumbled forward and then hopped over the back of the couch, settling against the cushions. She took another sip of milk. "You don't want to hear about this."

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But I think you need to be listened to. Believe me, I have lots of experience listening to people's trauma; I promise that it helps."

"We don't have to, to talk about it."

 _"We_ won't. _You're_ going to talk; _I'm_ going to listen."

She eyed him for a long, long moment. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Um . . . . There was this woman. The first person I killed.”

* * *

 

When people started trailing onto the Common Floor around nine, Danielle finally stopped talking. Her throat was raw and dry from hours of pouring out everything that crossed her mind. But when Steve stepped out of the elevator, she snapped her mouth shut and gave her aching jaw a break.

Sam just smiled and said the first thing he'd said in hours as he climbed to his feet. "Coffee?"

Danielle nodded and let him finally take her empty mug. Steve paused awkwardly at the threshold to the kitchen. "Did I interrupt something?"

Sam glanced at him and shook his head. "We were just catching up. How was your run?"

Steve shrugged. "Fine. Hit a couple dozen miles. I was going to make some eggs and bacon. Want some?"

"That'd be nice. Danielle?"

She nodded. "Ye—" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Yes, please," she whispered.

Steve glanced at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

He looked doubtful, but he didn't push it. Instead, he turned away to gather ingredients.

Sam filled a mug and moved back to Danielle. "Here you go."

"Thank you. Steve, could you make some breakfast for Winter too?"

Steve blinked. "Sure. Is he—"

The elevator opened and Bucky stepped out, yawning and running a hand through his hair. "Morning," he mumbled. He moved to the couch and put a hand on Danielle's shoulder, urging her to lean forward. When she'd done so, he sat down behind her and she laid back against his chest. He nuzzled his nose into her hair. "You didn't come back," he murmured.

"Sorry. I was talking at Sam."

"Talking _at_ him?" Bucky glanced up at Sam, who offered up a smile.

"Yes. Sorry for not letting you know where I was."

"Don't worry 'bout it. ARNO told me you were busy after I texted."

"Ah."

"ARNO?" Steve asked curiously, stepping over to them to hand them their plates.

Danielle just nodded, not bothering to explain. "Thank you for breakfast, Steve."

"I— Right. Of course. There's, uh, soup in the fridge. And I can make some sandwiches. I know you'll need more to eat."

"You don't have to—"

"If you wouldn't mind," Bucky cut in. "She definitely needs it."

Danielle twisted to squint at him. "You know, I can feed myself."

"Yeah, but he's offering. It would be impolite to refuse, wouldn't it?"

She squinted at him. Then she rolled her eyes. "I guess. That would be great, Steve. Thank you.”

* * *

 

Danielle sighed in relief as she finished securing the panel on the back of the watch. "Beautiful," she whispered. "Ready?"

_"Get on with it."_

"Ooh, so impatient." She straightened and adjusted the lamp. Then she slipped the watch around her wrist and locked it in place. "Here we go." She pressed the power button. As it woke up, she slipped a ring onto both index fingers. The watch flashed blue in her vision to let her know it was awake and connected. Danielle grinned. "Well? How does it look for you?"

_"Decent enough. And you?"_

"Likewise."

_"And no one else can see a damn thing. Brilliant."_

"Well . . . they can see the watch." She tapped the glass. "Let's make a note." She couldn't help her grin as the text box appeared. She cleared her throat and twisted the left ring. The text cursor appeared at the top of the text box. Her grin widened and she started to type in the air with her right hand, murmuring her words aloud as she wrote. "Typing program, running test one. Analysis of program's success and efficiency measured with—"

The jolt in Bucky's heart rate made her pause. She closed her hands and the text box disappeared, all blue clearing from her vision. She glanced over her shoulder at her bed. Bucky was stiff as a board, skin pale and sweaty and both hands fisted in the blankets. His breathing was starting to come hard and fast and erratic.

"Shit," she muttered, shoving up from the desk. Danielle stopped at the edge of the bed. "Winter," she called. "Winter, wake up, please. Please wake up."

All he did was shudder and groan in pain.

Danielle took a careful breath and let it out steadily. Then she climbed up onto the bed. When she put a hand on his shoulder, his entire body instinctively shied away. Danielle swung over, straddling his chest and pressing her hands into his shoulders. She dragged up Tesseract energy in preparation. "Winter!"

He jerked, eyes snapping open. But even as all of his muscles tensed for action, Tesseract energy bound him and kept him still. Danielle felt the strain against her skin and the heat already forming in her head.

"Breathe," she ordered. "Breathe. Two syllables: re-lax. Please listen to me."

His pupils flinched in the light and he squinted as it if was painful. But his stare was distant. Danielle kept him still with the Tesseract and moved her hands to frame his face. She kept her voice soft as she spoke.

"Hi, Winter. It's me. It's Nell. You're with me and you're safe. It's September. September 20th. 2014. You're at Avengers Tower in New York City and you are _safe._ I swear to god you're safe."

His heartbeat steadied and he closed his eyes. "I'm . . . I'm sorry."

"Are you back with me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," she whispered, releasing her energy hold on him. The soreness settled into her bones almost immediately. "It's okay. We all have nightmares."

"No, that's not—" He opened his eyes, but he still didn't look at her. Instead, he just stared up at the ceiling like it might hold the answers he needed. "That's not it. I'm sorry. I, I killed him."

She swung off of him and braced his chin so she could lean down and kiss his cheek. "It was just a dream. It was just a dream, Winter."

"No. It wasn't."

Danielle paused, studying the absolute anguish in his eyes. "Memory?" He didn't say anything to that, but he didn't need to. She gripped his shoulders and pulled him so he was sitting up. She curved a hand around to hold the back of his neck. "You didn't choose to do that. You know that, right?"

"I know, it's— It's not that I, I— It was _him._ Oh, god. I, I, I, I can't stay here. I have to go." He suddenly surged away from her, scrambling off the bed. He hit the floor harshly and wobbled for just a moment before dragging himself up. "I'm sorry. I—"

"You're leaving?" she cut in incredulously. "You're leaving me?"

He stumbled to a stop and looked back at her, pale face shining with sweat. "I— No," he gasped out. "No. No, of course not. I— No. I'm staying. I'm staying. I promise. I'll never leave this Tower, okay? I'm staying."

"Whoa, no, that's not—" Danielle shifted off the bed. She stood and reached for him, smiling when he slid his hand into hers. "If you need to leave, we'll leave. Together. Just tell me _why."_

"I killed him," he whispered.

"So you've said. Killed whom?"

_"Him."_

"Winter. Oh, Winter," she sighed, bringing up a hand to support his chin to make sure he kept looking at her. "You aren't making sense. Whom?"

"Howard." He said the name much in the way someone lets out all the air in their lungs when they're punched in the gut. Immediately, he closed his eyes and moved to turn away.

Danielle tightened her grips on his chin and hand. "No. Stop. Stay." She leaned her head down against his shoulder and let the silence drag out as she thought. "Howard," she repeated. "Howard . . . Stark?"

"Yes."

"My grandfather?"

"I— Yes."

"I don't care. I never knew him."

"But I did."

She pulled back and studied him. "And?"

"And your father did."

"Right. He did." She brushed her thumb across his cheek. "Okay. We'll leave. We— Let's pack, then. And I know just the person to help us."

He frowned. "What?"

"Well, we'll have a better chance of not being caught if someone here can throw everyone else off the scent, right?" She smiled. "So get your things. Let me take care of the rest."


	13. To die is nothing (but it is terrible not to live)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Les Misérables by Victor Hugo.

"Miss Stark?"

Danielle jerked, closing her hands. The blueprints she was working on immediately vanished. "What?" She blinked at the girl standing in front of her. "Yes?"

Lila beamed and held up the plastic box she was carrying. "Please? Daddy won't let me 'cause of work and Mommy's cooking."

Danielle stared at the jumble of nail polishes in the box. "Um. Sure. If you want to."

"Yes!" Lila said, lighting up.

"Put a towel down, girls!" Laura called from the other room. "I don't want to have to sand the coffee table again."

"Of course, Mrs. Barton. Do you have a towel, Lila?"

"Uhhh, hold on." She shoved the box into Danielle's hands. "Choose your color!" She ran off.

Danielle blinked down at the box. She settled it on her knees and dug through it for a moment. Just as she'd chosen one, Lila came back with a towel. "Okay!" the girl announced spreading the towel on the coffee table. "What color?"

"Is this one okay?" Danielle asked, passing the polish to her and then setting the box aside. She slid off the couch and knelt in front of the table.

Lila grinned. "Ooh, Drama Queen! That's a good color."

Danielle blinked. "Drama— It's purple."

"I know. But it's called Drama Queen." Lila turned it and pointed at the label. "I get this one a lot 'cause it's Uncle Clint's favorite color for me to put on 'im. Alright. Hands down." She patted the towel and then started rolling the bottle between her hands.

"Yes, ma'am." Danielle smiled and set her hands on the towel, fingers spread. "Does Clint let you do his nails a lot?"

"When he's here," she said, opening the polish. "Here's not here too much, though. He's too busy being a superhero!"

"Is it cool? Having a superhero for an uncle?"

Lila squinted at her and then focused on her nails. "Your dad is a superhero, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, he is."

"Her dad is the _coolest_ superhero," Cooper said from where he was lounging upside down in his chair, GameBoy in hand. "He's _Iron Man._ Did you know that he's made over one hundred versions of his suit, Miss Stark?"

"I did. And you don't have to call me that, you know."

"Do you have your own superhero name?" Lila asked curiously. Then she leaned over to blow on the nails on Danielle's left hand.

"I—" Danielle caught herself and thought back to Strucker's insistence that she didn't have a name, just a project title. Four Blue, Four Blue, Four— "No. I don't."

"Oh, we should give you one!" Cooper said, scrambling up from his spot. "Uncle Clint is called Hawkeye 'cause he can see like a hawk! Iron Man is called Iron Man 'cause his suit is made of iron!"

"Um, actually it's made of— Right." Danielle smiled. "Okay."

"What are you made of, then?" Lila asked. "Move," she ordered, adjusting Danielle's right hand in preparation.

"Um, I'm just human. I think."

Cooper walked over and hopped up onto the coffee table, leaning forward to look at what they were doing. "Uncle Clint says you're made of space rocks too, or something. Whaddabout Rocky?"

"What? No!" Lila gasped out. "She needs something cool and pretty. Like, like. Ooh! Space Princess!"

"What? No! Rocky!"

"Space Princess!" Lila yelled, slamming her nail polish bottle closed. "Space Princess!"

"Nu-uh! Rocky!"

"Uh, am I done?"

"It has to dry, so don't do much," Lila said. Then she faced Cooper again. "Rocky is a stupid name. She's Space Princess!"

Danielle sat back, holding her hands out carefully. And then she focused and flickered away. She landed outside, and sat down on the porch steps. "Having fun?"

Bucky glanced back at her for a second and then split the next log. "If that's what you want to call it."

She eyed the hug pile of wood he'd already chopped. "I'd call it overdoing it, actually. What's up?"

"It's a good distraction."

"Distraction? From what?"

She didn't get an answer.

"Winter, a distraction from what?"

He sighed and dropped the ax. "Just . . . my head, I guess." He took a couple steps to reach her and then knelt down. "I'll stop if you want."

"I'm not worried about that; I'm worried about how you feel. Talk to me."

He nodded. Bucky leaned forward and slide his arms tightly around her waist, resting his head against her stomach. Danielle lifted her hands awkwardly up to keep her nails from getting touched.

"I feel guilty, I guess. I didn't want to make you leave."

"You didn't make me do anything."

"I know."

"And your head?"

"Loud. Confusing, I guess. I can't get killing them out of my head."

"Howard? And Maria?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Them." He sighed heavily. Then he stilled. Bucky pulled back. "Any reason why you're not hugging back?"

She flushed. "Sorry. Lila just did my nails and I don't want to disappoint her by messing them up."

"Oh?" His smile was a little tired, but it was honest. He straightened. "Let me see."

She held her hands out for him to see and he gripped her wrists. "She did a good job. Polish looks good on you."

"I used to do my nails all the time," Danielle mused. "My dad would help. He got really good at it." She tilted her head at him. "You should let Lila do your nails."

He raised an eyebrow. "I only have one hand."

"That's still five nails for her to work with. We'll wait for her and Cooper to finish arguing; then we'll choose your color."

"Arguing?"

Danielle laughed a little and leaned her head forward against his shoulder. "They're trying to decide whether my superhero name should be Space Princess or Rocky."

"Oh, Space Princess. Definitely.”

* * *

 

"Dani," Tony called, knocking softly at the door. "Hey, kiddo. It's been a few days since any of us have seen you. I, I know I've been trying to give you space, but I just want to make sure you're okay. Um, I got some double dark chocolate chunk ice cream. I was thinking you'd like some."

There was no answer. Tony swallowed and waited nervously. Then he knocked again, louder this time. "Dani?"

A door down the hallway opened and Sam leaned out. "Oh, hey, Tony. Looking for Danielle?"

"Yeah. Is she not inside?"

Sam shrugged and stepped out. "I have no idea. I haven't heard a peep from her for a while. Last I asked, she was working on some watch project or something. Though . . . ." He frowned. "You know, she eats a lot; pretty much keeping your grocery deliver people in business. Have any of them delivered orders for her?"

Tony frowned. "I— Not for about a week." And then his expression dropped and he paled. He turned, pounding on the door. "Danielle! Are you in there?"

Sam moved to stand beside him, frowning. "Hey, JARVIS? Is Danielle still in the building?"

"I can tell you that neither Danielle nor Sergeant Barnes are in the building," the AI said. "And they have not been in the building for eight days now."

Tony took a shaky step back. "Eight days? Where the hell did they go, JARVIS!"

"Unknown, Sir."

"Alright, step back," Sam said. He moved forward and kicked the door in. But the moment he stepped in, he knew exactly what was wrong.

The suite was completely picked clean of Bucky and Danielle's things. The kitchen, the bedrooms, the living area, the bathroom. Everything of theirs was gone.

"JARVIS," Tony snapped out, whipping around on his heel and marching for the elevator. "Call all the Avengers in the Tower to the meeting room. Now!"

"Of course, Sir."

Sam scrambled after him. By the time they got to the room, Bruce, Steve, Thor, and Natasha were already there. Steve was standing at the head of the table, arms crossed. "What's going on?"

"Dani and Barnes. They're gone. Have been for eight days," Tony ground out. "I have no idea where they went."

"Gone? As in— Did Hydra—"

"It doesn't look like it," Sam said, interrupting before Steve could get himself worked up over that idea. "All their stuff is gone and so are the bags. As if they packed up, knowing they were going to leave." He glanced around. "Where's Clint?"

"He went out to get pizza," Thor said. "He wished to introduce me to something called the supreme."

"Clint!" Tony said, straightening. "If she told _any_ of us, she would have told Clint. J, call Clint."

"Calling now."

Tony held his breath for a long moment, listening as JARVIS dialed. Clint picked up on the second ring. _"New York Mortuary. You stab 'em; we slab 'em. What's up?"_

"Where's Danielle?" Tony asked, cutting right to the point.

There was a pause on the other end. _"She said she was working on some watch or something. So she's been holed up in her room for a while now. Why?"_

"She's gone. Has been for over a week. Do you know where she is?"

_"No."_

Natasha frowned, straightening. "You're lying."

And then there was a click with no answer. JARVIS said, "Agent Barton has ended the call. Would you like me to redial?"

"Yes! Yes, redial!"

The phone rang again just twice before stopping. "Agent Barton has blocked this number," JARVIS said.

Steve straightened, unfolding his arms. "Track his phone. Now." He frowned. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"I don't know," Natasha said curiously. "But I think I have an idea of where Danielle might be.”

* * *

 

She was just finally trailing off to sleep when she heard a new vehicle arrive outside. Danielle stilled, listening carefully. It sounded vaguely familiar. She rolled over and sat up. The arm around her tightened. "What are you doing?" Bucky asked tiredly.

"Car," she mumbled. She slipped out of his hold and stepped to the window. Danielle folded back the curtain just barely and peered outside. She caught her breath at the sight of one of her dad's cars. But then Clint got out and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Danielle returned to the bed and put a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Clint's here. I'm gonna go downstairs."

He mumbled something tiredly in response and she just smiled before slipping on a pair of shorts and heading out and down the stairs. She reached the door and opened it. Clint faltered, lowering his key. "Hey, Sharps. You and Barnes need to leave."

Danielle stepped aside to let him in. She closed the door with her foot and frowned. "Why?" she murmured.

A door opened somewhere else in the house and Danielle glanced over her shoulder to see Barney. He frowned and dragged a hand through his hair. "Back so soon, Clint?" the man rumbled. "What's going on?"

"Barnes and Danielle need to leave. They figured it out and goddamn Tash can always tell when I'm lying. I wouldn't put it past her to lead them here."

Barney straightened. "She would do that? She'd lead them _here?"_

"For Danielle? Yeah, probably."

Danielle looked up at Barney, paling. "I'm sorry. I didn't think she would— I'm sorry."

"It's . . . . Laura has some leftover pie that you two can probably take for the road," Barney said, turning away to the kitchen.

Clint hesitated. "Go get ready. I'll help lay a some false trails when you leave." With that said, he ducked after his brother.

Danielle flickered back upstairs to find Bucky was still out, exhausted. She moved about and packed up their bags. When she was done, she leaned over him and put a hand on his arm. "Winter. You gotta get up. I'll drive, but I'm not carrying you to the car. C'mon."

He struggled to open his eyes. "What's going on?"

"We have to go." Her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I, I know you've finally been able to sleep, but Dad and the others are on their way."

He groaned and let her tug back the blanket. Then he stumbled up to his feet and took the clothes she handed to him. Danielle helped him dress and then had him sit down before she knelt and slipped on his shoes.

"Okay, let go." She wrapped Tesseract energy around the bags and an arm around him before flickering down to the car.

Clint pushed off of his own car. "Where are you headed? I'll lay some trails in different directions from that."

"I'm not sure," Danielle said, easing Bucky down into the passenger seat. She leaned across him to secured his seatbelt and then wedged a pillow up between him and the door as she closed it. Almost immediately, he leaned into the pillow and was back asleep. As she moved to put the bags in the trunk, she pondered the question. "I've always wanted to see the Great Wall, I guess."

"Alright." Clint hesitated. "Careful. China will kill you without question if they catch you there illegally."

She just smiled palely. "It wouldn't matter."

Clint looked like she'd punched him. "Of course it would matter," he murmured. "I don't want you dead."

"That's my point, Clint. I can't— Look, Hydra tried, okay? They tested it plenty. It never stuck. So I don't have anything to worry about there."

"Tested," he echoed, voice achingly hollow. "When you say it never stuck . . . ."

"They killed me," she said bluntly. "And I came back. Every. Single. Time." Danielle glanced away and cleared her throat. "So, so you don't have to worry about that, okay? I'll be fine. Will be . . . forever, I guess."

"Oh."

She looked back. _"Don't_ tell anyone. Please."

"I won't. Of course I won't, Sharps. You know me better than that."

She stared at them. Then Danielle laughed a little and gave a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." She moved forward. Clint easily opened his arms to her and Danielle leaned into his chest. "Thank you for this. Really. I owe you."

"Nah, you really don't. I'm not doing this for favors, Sharps; I'm doing this for you.”

* * *

 

"This is it?"

"Clint's family farm," Natasha confirmed.

Tony eyed the house, let his gaze flick to the barn, and then looked back at the house. Then he shoved past the others. "Alright. Let's—"

The door opened before he even reached the porch. A man stood there, arms crossed as he frowned. "What do you want? Why are you on my property?"

"I want to know where the hell—"

"Tony," Natasha murmured, putting a hand out to stop him. She stepped forward. "Barney."

"Romanoff."

"We want to know if Danielle was here. We're looking for her."

"Clint was," Barney said. "He said to tell you that he's calling in Bavaria."

Natasha pulled back. "Bavaria? Really?"

"That's what he said."

"For _this?"_

"That's what he said."

Natasha fell silent. Then she turned on her heel and headed for the quinjet. "Alright, you'll have to find Danielle without me."

Steve straightened in alarm. Tony whipped around, saying, "Wait, what?"

She stopped at the top of the ramp and looked back. "I can't be involved with this anymore. I can't help you."

_"Why?"_

"Clint called in Bavaria."

Steve put a hand on Tony's shoulder to calm him down and slowly said, "Okay, but what does that mean?"

"It means that I owed Clint a huge favor. Anything in the world he wanted. And he's decided to use it on keeping me from finding Danielle."

"Why would he do that, though?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that she's making her own choices and for some reason Clint supports the choices she's making. I can't say I understand it, just that I can't be a part of it. Good luck.”

* * *

 

"I'll be okay with going back eventually, you know," he murmured.

"Hmm?" Danielle lifted her head from his chest and blinked the tiredness from her eyes. She stared at him as she processed his words. Then she sighed and settled against him again, humming contentedly as his metal thumb pressed circles into her shoulder. "It wasn't just you," she whispered. "I was happy to leave."

He stilled. When she gave a whine of protest, he started the circles again. Bucky leaned his head down to rest on hers. "Why? I thought you liked being home."

She didn't answer for a long, long time. Then she said, "I don't think that's been home for a while. And . . . it's better this way. For my dad. If I'm there, I know he thinks he can take care of me. But this way he doesn't have to, have to look so sad every time he sees me."

"He doesn't do that."

She tensed. "Yes. He does. Or, or he did. He doesn't have to worry about that anymore."

Bucky sighed but chose not to answer that. Instead, he brought up his other hand to brush her hair from her face. "Get some sleep," he murmured. "We still have half of China to cross before we get off this train. There's plenty of time."

"And you?" she asked, already halfway to dreaming.

"You already let me sleep. Now it's your turn."


	14. A dream (that ends in nothing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.

Danielle woke up crying in Bucky's arms. He dragged her into his lap and rocked her back in forth as she sobbed. As she finally began to quiet, he murmured, "Talk to me."

"I'm sorry," she gasped out. "I didn't— I'm sorry."

"Shh, no, don't apologize."

"I want my dad," she breathed.

Bucky stilled. "What?" he asked, voice cracking. "Nell, you— What?"

"I—" She flinched. "I'm sorry."

"You said you wanted to leave. You said that." He pulled back just a little to look down at her.

"I know," she said softly, looking down. "I know I did."

He stared at her. And then he shifted her off of him so that he could lean over to the nightstand. He turned on the lamp and grabbed something. "Hand," he ordered.

Danielle hesitated for a moment. Then she held out her hand. Bucky turned it over and put the compass in her palm. When he opened it, the needle spun for a moment as it decided. Then it settled on pointing off to the north east, the direction Clint had last confirmed that the Avengers were in during their search.

Bucky took a long breath to steady himself. He clicked the compass closed and carefully set it back on the night stand. "Well?"

"You felt guilty," she whispered. "You felt like you forced me to leave and that's not true."

"You wanted to stay with you father."

"I—" She hesitated. "Somewhat. I wanted to stay. But I didn't want you to stay if you didn't want to and I didn't want you to leave without me. So I made a choice and I chose you."

"And then you lied to me."

Danielle finally met his gaze. She managed a feeble nod. "I did. I, I shouldn't have."

"Do you . . . want to go back?" he asked carefully, cautiously.

"Yes." Danielle squared her shoulders. "But I also want to stay here. And I'm _choosing_ to stay here.”

* * *

 

"I got groceries!" Danielle announced, stepping in and closing the door with her hip. "Milk, cheese, tomatoes, some more bread. Ooh, I got a brownie mix and some of that new cereal. And," —she lifted a small bag of fruit from the grocery bag— "plums!"

Bucky lowered his journal and tilted his head curiously. "Plums?"

"Yep." She set the bag on the counter and went about putting the food away. "They're supposed to help with memory. So I want to say they'll help you, but they've never been used in a case like yours before. So I guess you'll have to try 'em and see."

"I doubt it'll help."

"Well, you don't have to be such a pessimist." She picked out one of them and rinsed it clean. After drying it off, she tossed it to him. "Have you ever had one before?"

"I'm not sure," he murmured. He bit into it and shrugged. "It's okay."

"Also, I got you this." She held up a gift, wrapped in red and green, and grinned. "And you have to wait to see what it is."

He just raised an eyebrow and gestured to the left. Danielle turned and her eyes widened. "You got a tree!"

"Yep. And . . . ." He nudged the box by his chair with his foot. "Lights and garland. Also, did you know that they're selling Falcon action figures now?" He leaned over and dug said toy out of the box. "I figured we could put him at the top."

"As the angel?"

"Well, he's the only one that has wings," Bucky said, shrugging. He clicked a button and the toy Sam's wings popped out. What do you think?"

Danielle grinned. "I think that I'm going to skip making dinner and have something delivered instead, because we've got work to do.”

* * *

 

Danielle carefully slid out of his arms without disturbing him. As she threaded her fingers though his hair with one hand to keep him calm and asleep, she twisted her Tesseract energy through the watch on her other wrist and lifted the device off. As she combed his hair, the watch settled and latched itself to his wrist. Cautiously, she pulled back and stepped out of bed. Using the Tesseract, she was able to get the first pie started in the countertop oven and fill two mugs with steaming hot cocoa without waking him. Then she settled in her armchair and grinned.

"Okay, ARNO," she whispered.

_"Got it."_

Horns and drums started blaring from the bracelet. Bucky shot up and hit the floor the moment the singing started. He stumbled to his feet, knife in hand, and looked around for his attacker.

_"With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer!"_

He blinked and dropped his gaze to his watch. "What the hell?"

Danielle's grin just brightened. "Merry Christmas, Winter!"

ARNO stopped the music and a wave of her hand detached the watch from him. She snatched it out of the air and slipped it back on. "Good morning!"

"Um . . . ." He stabbed the knife into the nightstand and rubbed his eyes. "Um, yeah, good morning. Was that really necessary?"

"Well, I thought it was funny, so," —she pretended to think about it— "yeah. Besides, it's Christmas. No one sleeps in on Christmas." She scrambled up and waved to the other chair. "Sit down! I have hot chocolate! And the first pumpkin pie of five is in the oven."

He was sitting by the time she got the mugs. Danielle perched on one of the arms, feet resting in his lap, and pressed a hot cup into his hands. She sipped at her own. "Hey, Winter?"

"Hmm?"

She reached out and tapped his chin so that he looked at her. Concern marred his expression and she pressed her thumb between his brows to smooth the look away. She smiled. "I'm happy. I don't want to leave. And, and I mean that."

He frowned. "Nell—"

"No, wait, look." She glanced back over her shoulder. Her compass lifted from the nightstand and shot to her hand she opened it. The needle trembled for a moment. And then it started to spin around and around slowly. Danielle nodded. "Happy."

Bucky smiled and reached out, closing the compass. "Okay." He turned her hand over and lifted it to his lips so he could kiss it. "Thank you."

_"Barton's calling, boss."_

Danielle stiffened, hand clamping down around the compass. "Speaker, ARNO."

There was a pause and then Clint's voice came through the watch. _"Sharps? You there?"_

"Clint. What's going on?"

_"Well, they've narrowed you two down to Hong Kong."_

Danielle forgot to breathe. "What? They, they have?"

_"To be honest, I'm surprised it took them three months to do it. But if you don't want to get caught, you two need to leave. Now. They left six hours ago but I only now found out. Any idea where you'll be headed next?"_

Danielle exchanged a look with Bucky. "Brazil," she said. "São Paulo."

 _"Good. Get moving."_ The call ended.

"Barton's not here to lay a false trail, so we'll have to make our own," Bucky said. He hesitated. "I don't like it."

"I know." A flick of her wrist sent her mug over to the sink, where it emptied and set down. "But we have to split up to do it. I'll meet you at the spot in Zhaoqing?"

He sighed. "Alright."

Danielle kissed his cheek and then jumped up. She spread her Tesseract energy out to the apartment as she got dressed, letting the power lift up her things and tuck them away into her bag. She flickered over to the tree and stooped down, picking up the gift under the tree that was labeled with her name. She smiled and lifted it. "We'll open these in São Paulo, okay?"

Bucky nodded and picked up his own. "Okay. I'll go first."She tucked her gift away in her bag. "Okay. Um, brown contacts, beanie, and scarf should be good. And put on your mask. That part of China really does make it easier to hide. I'm gonna go hide my scars.”

* * *

 

"Do you have it yet?" Tony asked, tapping his foot nervously.

"Yeah, just— Hold on, okay? I usually just kick the doors in," Steve said, twisting the needle he had in the lock. "Keep an eye out, would you?"

"No one's coming. Just hurry up. They're probably not even in there anymore. Probably flickered away the moment they hear you grabbing the handle like an elephant."

"Hey. You want to try this?"

"No. No, you're good."

Sam sighed heavily. "Honestly, I'm never going on a road trip with the two of you. Just letting you know. Because you're just _terrible_ together."

"Uh-huh," Tony said distractedly. "Love you too, sweetheart. Steve! C'mon!"

"Got it!" Steve twisted the knob and pushed the door open. "Here we are. Aaaand it's empty."

"Uh, not totally," Sam said. "Looks like they had Christmas plans." He squinted and then moved across the room. "Oh my god. Steve, I'm on the tree. Look at me." He slipped out his phone with a grin. "I am _never_ letting Barnes forget this." He took a step back so he could get a good angle on the picture. "They're not here," Tony said, moving to the table to sit down. He pulled out his tablet. "I'll start searching all the nearby cameras, satellites, the like. I need to see if we can catch them at all."

"Should we, though?" Sam asked, turned to look at him.

Tony looked up. "Excuse me?"

"I dunno, I just . . . . Look, we had it in our heads that these two were on the run, living on the streets to try to avoid us. But this?" He gestured wildly around the apartment. "There's a half-cooked pumpkin pie in the oven with four more waiting. This furniture is definitely not something that comes with the place, so they've obviously been shopping. There's a goddamn calendar on the wall with local events written in Danielle's handwriting. They weren't homeless or anything like that. They were just . . . living. And we messed that up."

"They don't have to live here, though."

"But they _chose_ to," Sam said stubbornly. "And isn't that important thing? After Hydra took all that choice away from them? Isn't it important that they chose somewhere and obviously they were happy enough here to stay. At least until we barged in."

Steve shifted uncomfortably. "He has a point."

"Not you too!"

"Tony, I—" Steve sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. "Look, I want them back as much as you. I want Buck back at the Tower. But he's his own person. And so is Danielle."

"She's my daughter."

"She's an adult. And she's made her choices. I . . . ." Steve glanced away. "Look, Tony, I'm exhausted. We've been doing this for months. And I just don't think this is worth it. Not if it's about taking away their choice again. I think Clint's the only one of us that really understood that 'til now."

The door slammed open. "Thank god."

Tony shot to his feet. "Barnes! What— Where's—"

"Gone. I don't know where she is." He slammed the door closed and stalked in, dropping his bag on the couch. "We were supposed to meet in Zhaoqing and she never showed. Something happened."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, frowning. "Maybe she was running late?"

"She would have let me know. Can you contact Barton?"

"He has me blocked," Tony said. "But I'll call him from a different number. And JARVIS is already trying to figure out where she went when she left the apartment. Which, speaking of leaving," Tony said, anger creeping into his voice as he looked up.

"Now isn't the time," Steve murmured.

Tony shook his head to refocus. "Looks like she headed south-west," he said, standing up and staying focused on the tablet. "Let's go."

They left the apartment and followed Tony as he weaved in and out between the streets. After almost an hour, he stopped. Sam frowned. "What?"

"Lost the trail. There's nothing else."

Steve took a long sniff, earning him a squinting look from Tony. The soldier shook his head. "Blood. Nearby."

"Jesus, what are you, a sniffer dog?"

Steve just gave him a flat look. "Do you want to follow that lead or not?"

"Yeah, of course. Can your super sniffer tell us which way."

"East," Sam said. When Tony frowned at him, Sam shrugged. "Wind's coming from that way. It's the most likely option." He glanced at Steve. "Am I right?"

"Probably," Steve said, already heading that way. He after turning down a few streets, they stopped and stared at the crime scene that was absolutely crawling with police.

The tablet dropped from Tony's hands and clattered against the ground. All the color drained from his face as he started at the alleyway that was dripping with blood. "Maybe, maybe this wasn't where she went. Maybe—"

"Tony." Steve pointed at the object one officer was pulling out of the wall: Hlín.

"Oh, god. God, that's a lot— Shit. Where— She's— Oh, god."

"Tony. Tony!" Steve's hands clamped down onto his shoulders. "There's not a body, okay? She's out there somewhere and we're going to find her. Everything's going to be okay."

"But—"

"Everything's going to be okay. Say it."

"Cap—"

"Say it."

Tony swallowed, dry throat aching. "Everything . . . is going to be okay.”

* * *

 

She hated herself for finding the familiar weight around her neck comforting.What wasn't familiar or comforting was the way her hands were bound behind her back and chained to the wall. Her knees ached and she had to twist to shift her position. It was when that movement made the collar squeeze that she realized it was chained too. But she finally managed to sit down, criss-cross applesauce, and that seemed to relieve some of the pressure on both her neck and hands. Danielle tilted her head to the side as she studied her guards, but immediately regretted it when the collar pinched. She hissed out a string of curses.

One of the guards glanced back and rapped his knuckles on the bars. "Hey, I'm not getting paid to listen to you have a breakdown."

She narrowed in on him, gaze flicking from the dirty ring on his hand to the dark circles under his eyes to the creases in his black turtleneck, just visible below his vest. A ding interrupted her train of thought and she glanced to the side to see the other guard answering a text on his phone. He shot a side-eyed look at the first guard and tilted the phone away as he read his message. After a moment, he shifted obviously.

Danielle grinned. Bingo. After all, Hydra taught her plenty of ways to get information that didn't involve sticking needles under people's fingernails.

"So you two know each other outside your evil henchmen job, huh?"

There was no answer for a moment. Then the first guard glanced back. "What?"

"Outside of," —she jerked her head, attempting to use it as a replacement for the way she wanted to gesture with her hands— "this. You two know each other."

"Uh, yeah."

"Don't talk to her," the second guy growled, tucking his phone back away.

"Oh, don't worry about him," Danielle said, smiling softly. "He's just worried you'll find out he's sleeping with your wife, that's all."

The first guard whipped around to stare at her suspiciously and the second guard stiffened.

"If you want to make sure I'm being honest, I'm pretty sure they were just sexting right there." She nodded to the second guard. "I'd take a look at his phone, if I were you. Just to check."

The first guard whirled on the second. "What the hell? _You're_ who Georgia's been seeing?"

"Wait, hold on—"

"You've been sitting there and listening to me talk about— You _asshole!"_

Relief uncoiled in her stomach as the fight broke out. With the sound of them yelling and hitting each other, the noise of her wrist snapping went unnoticed. She screwed her eyes shut against the pain as she dragged her broken hand through the cuff. Her fingers ached as they moved, but she forced them under the other cuff and pulled until the metal gave. Then she reached for the collar.

She wrenched at the metal and it bent. Power flushed back through her veins. Danielle sighed in relief and twisted the energy through the collar, snapping it in half and letting it drop.

It was that clatter of metal that made the guards stumbled in their fight and they looked up.

"Wait—"

She flickered outside the bars and grabbed one of the guards, twisting his shirt collar and lifting him so that his feet dangled off the ground. "Where am I?" she growled.

And then something pinched in her neck.

Danielle blinked at the cold pushing into her body. She dropped the man and ignored his cry of pain when he hit the ground wrong. She felt at her neck and came away holding a dart. Danielle swung around, swaying dangerously to the side. "What—"

"Like it?" a voice asked. "Scooped these tranqs off a supplier in Cairo. Advertised them as being able to take down Captain America; I figured they'd work on you."

"What?" was all she could manage again. When had the world gotten so blurry? Her knees hit the floor.

Rumlow leaned closely in so that she could see his gnarled, burned face. He grinned. "Long time no see."


	15. I am no bird (no net ensnares me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.

He'd been scrubbing the bag for an hour and the water was still running red. He growled in frustration and squeezed more soap out onto it. He resumed his scouring.

A hand touched his shoulder. If he hadn't heard the other man coming, it wouldn't have ended well. Steve seemed to realize that, because he pulled his hand back. "Sorry. I just . . . wanted to check in. How are you doing?"

Bucky glanced at him briefly and then refocused on his work. "How the fuck do you think I'm doing?"

"I'm assuming not well, but I don't know _how_ not well. That's why I'm asking."

"Not. Well." Bucky punctuated each word with a forceful jerk of the washrag against the still-bloody bag.

"We have other bags," Steve murmured, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

"That's not the point. Not the goddamn—" Bucky stilled and forced a tense sigh. "We barely split up. It wasn't long. And she— Dammit. I knew separating was a bad idea."

"It's not your fault."

"That's easy for you to say. She's not _your_ responsibility."

"And she's yours?" Steve asked curiously.

Bucky didn't answer that. He just grit his teeth and rinsed the bag out again. The water was still red.

"We have a washer," Steve said softly. "I'm sure that could help. Do you—"

"I don't need your goddamn help!" Bucky snapped, slamming the water off. The handle snapped and water started spraying. "Shit, hold on—"

"JARVIS," Steve called. "Shut the water off, please."

The water trickled off and finally stopped completely. Bucky scowled down at his soaked shirt. "Fine," he muttered. "Put the thing in the washer. Just— Fine."

"Okay." Steve reached out and took the bag. "What else do you need?"

"To find Danielle," Bucky ground out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Steve nodded. "Tony's going over leads in his lab. He won't say no to help. Probably."

Bucky was out of the room before Steve even finished talking.

* * *

When she came to, there was a man forcing a guard into her mouth. "Bite down," he ordered.

Mind still hazy and confused, Danielle did the only thing that made sense in that moment: obeying. The person in front of her stepped back and grunted as he pulled something down. Cold metal pressed against her face and she hissed, instinctively trying to pull away from it. That plan was stopped almost immediately when metal clamped down on her other side, effectively holding her in place.

She tried to ask what was going on, but the mouth guard got in the way. Danielle struggled for a moment and managed to spit it out. "What are you doing?" she rasped. The room was still spinning and her voice didn't sound quite right to her own ears. She glanced across the guards and then focused on the man, who was now sitting down at a panel of controls and doing something. "Wait, what—"

And then pure electricity jabbed through her skull. Danielle screamed and writhed and, god, there was so much iron in her mouth and dripping down the back of her throat. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't— And really, that normally wasn't much of an issue, but the dam that was holding back the Tesseract ground pure, aching pain right into her bones. And god, Hydra had put her through a lot of pain over her time with them and she'd learned how to keep quiet, but this— This was a whole other level of agony.

But if her history had taught her anything at all, it was that there was nothing she couldn't get used to. Because, eventually, the daggers sliding along throughout her brain were just familiar instead of torturous. Not that it didn't still hurt, but just that she was . . . numb. Her head lolled forward as best as it could, pressing against the metal holding it up as her muscles gave out. Sticky blood dripped from her lips and down her chin.

"What is going on?" a voice demanded. "Why isn't it working?"

Danielle tried to lift her gaze so that she could look at who was speaking, so that she could figure out why she knew that voice. But all she managed was to stare ahead at the swirling colors and let slip a pained whine.

"Something's interfering, sir."

"The Tesseract?"

"I— No. There's something else. Like, something internal. Messing with it."

"Internal? Shut it down. Use the scanner."

"I— Yes, sir."

And then the knives slid out of her skull and the metal pulled away, peeling back from her sweaty skin. Her chin finally dropped to her chest, only for her head to be suddenly jerked back. Something wrapped tightly around her forehead and she couldn't move her neck. A buzzing started near her left ear and moved slowly around her head, accompanied by blurry light. Then the pressure on her head disappeared and her head dropped forward against her chest again.

"Well?" the voice asked.

"There's, there's something in there, sir."

"In there?"

It was quiet for a long moment. Danielle considered the possibility that she'd finally passed out.

"What is that?"

"I don't know. It's attached to her brain and it's— There's a port, sir."

"A port?"

"Yes. Like there would be on a computer."

It was quiet again.

"Take her to the lab.”

* * *

"Alright, that's it. If you're not going to open it, I am."

And with that said, the gift was snatched from Bucky's hands and Bacon was dumped there instead. He jerked his head up, scowling. "Give it back."

"Are you going to open it?" Clint asked pointedly.

Bucky worked his jaw. Bacon bumped against his hand and he stroked the cat's ears. "That's none of your business."

"Christmas has come and gone. You should open it. Danielle chose it, right? It's obviously something she wanted you to have. So," —the archer tilted his head to the side— "are you going to open it? Or should I?"

Bucky stared down at Bacon. He couldn't find it in himself to look up. "Please," he croaked.

"Alright." Clint started tearing away the wrapping. "Oh, here!" He stuck the bow on Bucky's head. "Aw, you look so pretty!"

"Barton," Bucky growled.

"Right, right. I've got it." Clint flipped out a knife and cut through the packing tape. He opened the box. "Aaaand! Aw, how adorable!"

"What?"

"Well, first, here's a sweater, so put that bad boy on," Clint said, throwing the clothing at him. "Second, happy is a cute look on you." He lifted out the picture frame and turned it around so Bucky could see the photo. In it, Danielle was clearly the one holding the camera. She was grinning. Beside her, Bucky seemed to have no intention of looking up for the picture and instead was leaning his forehead against Danielle's temple, grinning.

Bucky reached out and took it with a shaking hand. He didn't remember the picture happening, but then again, Danielle had been taking a lot of photos ever since she picked up an actual camera as they were passing through Madrid. He settled it in his lap. Bacon growled at the intrusion and scrambled down to the floor.

"We'll find her, you know. Get her back from whoever took her."

"Yeah. She might have already escaped," Bucky said, trying to inject hope into his voice and failing. "Maybe. If anyone could . . . ."

Clint hesitated. "If she had . . . wouldn't she come here? To where you are?"

Bucky glanced up at him, frowning. Then his eyes widened and he reached for his dog tag. "No," he murmured. "She wouldn't." He shoved himself to his feet and barely caught the gifts before they fell. "You know how to fly, right?"

"Uh, a quinjet? Yeah. Why?"

"We've gotta go to Bucharest.”

* * *

"You promised," a voice hissed. "You promised I could study her if I helped you."

"I did, didn't I?"

"If you don't— I will undo _all_ of my work and you'll be left without your little revenge weapon if you don't—"

There was a gagging sound. Danielle realized she hadn't been breathing and she forced herself to start again. She wanted to open her eyes, but they were just so _heavy._

"I, I, I'm sorry, sir!" the voice begged. "I'm sorry!"

There was a thud. "Fine. Ninety-six hours, starting now. That's what I promised you, isn't it? Study away." Something slammed.

"Get her secured," the first voice said, suddenly much more confident. "Where are my tools? Start recording."

Pressure tightened painfully around her wrists and ankles. Then something did the same to her head and her hips. Danielle groaned and tried to move away from the hold, only to have the restraints tightened further in response. She tried to tell them to stop, tried to ask what was happening, tried to talk at all. But it came out in a slurring mess of languages.

"Looks like her brain's still adjusting. I'll try to measure awareness. Four Blue! Tell me, what's the square root of seven hundred twenty-eight?"

 _Shut the fuck up,_ she wanted to say. _Don't call me that._ But all she managed was a string of nonsensical Chinese and Hungarian. _Twenty-six,_ her brain provided. _Point nine, eight, one, four, seven—_

"Hmm, I'm not sure if that's lack of proper awareness or communication. Why don't we try resetting her? Give me the ricin and we'll get started.”

* * *

_"Anything?"_

"She's not here."

_"You sure?"_

"Of course I'm sure," Bucky growled into the phone. "She's not here. Which means that wherever she is, she's probably still with the person that took her."

_"Shit. Okay. Get back here and we'll check in with the others; see if they've found anything.”_

* * *

When her arms grew back, they were outside the cuffs that had previously been holding them down. She could feel her skin stretching across new flesh and feeling returning, easing its way from her shoulders to her fingertips. She tried to move them, but her muscles weren't quite back in working order yet. So instead, she listened. She listened to the distant sound of a conversation, an argument. The scientist and Rumlow fighting several rooms away.

She was alone.

Danielle moved the moment her muscles reconnected. The collar tore apart like paper and she sighed in relief when the Tesseract returned to her. Danielle closed her eyes, drawing all of her energy inward.

And then she let it explode.

* * *

"Alright, careful there. You don't want them paper thin. We're dicing the onions, not cutting them out of existence."

Bucky grunted something akin to acknowledgement and adjusted his knife appropriately.

Sam frowned at him. "You know, you don't _have_ to do this. I mean, you do lots of other stuff for her. And I've seen you cook her some decent things. Er, I assume they're decent."

"They aren't."

"She eats them, though. Doesn't she?"

"She'll eat anything if she's hungry enough. Besides, Tony's a crap cook and she grew up on his stuff. Always says something about love being the main ingredient or whatever."

"Isn't that good enough?"

"No. Now, explain the spice mix again."

Sam studied him for a long moment. Then he sighed. "Yeah, okay. So it's a half tablespoon for the chili powder. Cumin, paprika, and oregano are all a teaspoon and a half. Everything else is just a quarter of a teaspoon? Got it? 'Cause I'm not saying it—"

The alarm blaring interrupted Sam's next few words. JARVIS's voice came through the system.

"Sir has called a meeting. A high level of Tesseract energy has been detected."

Bucky slammed the knife down and it buried itself clean through the cutting board. "Where?" he growled out.

"Peru."


	16. To commit a hasty action (return good for evil)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë.

When Danielle woke up, she was floating again. She vaguely remembered the explosion, vaguely remembered her body stitching itself back together, vaguely remembered the pain, the escape, the exhaustion. She didn't remember ever finding shelter.

Which she supposed would explain why there hadn't been a ceiling to stop her.

If she'd had air, she would have screamed. Danielle flailed, reaching for the absolute nothing that was available to her. She spun uselessly. And then she was looking up. Was it . . . up? She wasn't sure. But she was sure that she'd never seen the stars like this. The sky—well, it wasn't exactly sky anymore so much as it was just _everything_ —was wide and dark and gaping and the stars were like pinpricks in black paper allowing the cold light behind it to sneak through. It was just her, alone and bare and _lonely,_ beneath a million stars.

And Danielle felt small.

* * *

The building was gone.

The ceilings and walls just weren't there anymore. In their place, there was scattered and charred rubble of what once must have been a secure base. The cement floor was shattered apart, an ashen black that crumbled when touched. In places, there were mangled bodies, twisted remnants of what once might have been human.

Tony swallowed and refused to think of what might have happened to Danielle until he had more information. "JARVIS. Uh, can you tell what the epicenter of the explosion was?"

JARVIS took a moment. And then he put up the indicator on the screen, pinpointing one area of the destroyed building. "This seems to be central. Everything originated from here in an outward blast."

"Got it." To the rest of the team, he spoke as he lowered down towards that spot. "Found the center of the blast. Anyone alive yet?"

 _"Not that we've found,"_ Steve said through the coms. _"We'll let you know."_

"Sounds good." Tony flipped up his faceplate so he could survey the damage at the epicenter. The concrete floor at the very center was the only area that wasn't utterly destroyed, and atop it sat disfigured metal that might have once been . . . some sort of table?

And it was all soaked red.

Tony forced a breath. "JARVIS. Cause of the blast, again?"

"Evidence points towards the blast being of Tesseract-origin, indicating that Danielle was both the center and the cause."

Tony couldn't remember the suit opening, but the next thing he knew he was on his hands and knees as he emptied out the entire contents of his stomach onto the ground. He dragged the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth and slumped, just too tired to properly hold himself up.

A hand barely touched his shoulder, so gentle that he expected to see Natasha when he looked up. Instead, he found Bucky and realized that the touch wasn't gentle at all, just hesitant. "What do you want, Barnes?" he rasped.

Bucky pulled his hand back—it had been his metal one—and glanced away, casting his gaze across the destruction. "She's alive. I— You just need to know that. I, I can't promise that she's okay, but I can promise that she's alive."

"You can't— You can't know that. Look at this. Look— How would you even know that? How—" Tony's hands shook. "How would you even know that she's alive?"

"Because . . . she doesn't have a choice." Bucky shrugged and his hand went to his sheathed knife. His thumb rubbed repeatedly against the hilt. He finally met Tony's gaze again. "You can't destroy the Tesseract. And Nell _is_ the Tesseract."

Tony shifted—still not standing, still leaning heavily into the ground for support—but just enough that he could see Bucky better. Just enough that Bucky could see his fear better. "I don't understand."

"You do. You're smart."

Tony closed his eyes. "She's alive?" he whispered.

"She's alive."

_"Tony. Barnes. I've found something."_

Natasha's voice broke the conversation and both of them turned towards where the redhead was to the east, past a couple destroyed walls. She was crouching down, studying something next to another mangled body. "Someone survived. And they've left."

* * *

By the time she was done, the truck station bathroom was soaked in red. Her hands were stained and slick and it made it hard to grip the metal. The blood running into her eyes made it hard to see. Danielle wiped futilely at her eyes again and then gently touched another energy-formed screwdriver to the chip again, securing it closed. Then she lifted the device up to her head, skin and bone alike partially removed. It was too hard to see, so she went by feel as she sank the wires back into her brain.

Her hands shook and her throat was raw from forcing down her sounds, but the device was secure. Trembling, she picked up the part of her skull she'd removed and pressed it back into place, letting Tesseract energy lace it back together. Her vision was blurry now, and this time it wasn't because of the blood in her eyes.

Danielle clutched at the long jacket protecting her body, pulling it closed to try to keep herself warm as she gave in and slumped to the ground. As the black spots spread in her vision, she whispered, "ARNO?"

_"Hey, Boss. It's good to be back."_

* * *

"Rumlow."

Steve looked up, leaning back from the table to reach for the file Natasha was holding out. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. We tested the blood from whoever it was that escaped." She crossed her arms. "Rumlow."

Bucky poorly stifled a low growl and leaned across the table, snatching the file from Steve's hands. He opened it, metal hand gripping the paper dangerously. Clint didn't even try to stop himself as he swore. "Rumlow? Out of all people, why the hell—" He cut himself off, gritting his teeth. "Where is he?"

"Last known? Looks like he was in a hospital in Caimito as of last night. Under a false name, but," —Bucky scowled at the security footage stills— "it's definitely him."

"So what are we waiting for?" Tony rasped, dragging a hand through his hair and settling his heavy gaze on Bucky. "Are we going?"

Bucky glanced over the information in the file one more time and then nodded, setting the papers down. "Of course."

* * *

"¿Cuánto tiempo te quedarás con nosotros?" [How long will you be staying with us?] The receptionist looked up briefly from the computer to give her an expectant stare when she didn't answer. "¿Señora?"

"Oh." Danielle forcibly pulled herself back to the present and offered a tired smile. She twisted the bow on her blouse around her fingers. "No estoy seguro. ¿Comencemos con tres días?" [I'm not sure. Let's start with three days?]

The receptionist nodded and finished up his work. He slid her keycard across the desk to her. "Disfrute su estadía, señorita Ramsey." [Enjoy your stay, Miss Ramsey.]

"Gracías." She took the card and stooped just enough to pick up her bag. She turned to leave and then hesitated. "Me gustaría ordenar el menú hasta mi habitación, por favor." [I'd like to order the menu up to my room, please.]

He blinked and then nodded. "Por supuesto. ¿Qué te gustaría del menú?" [Of course. What would you like from the menu?]

"No— No, me gustaría el menú completo, por favor." [No— No, I'd like the entire menu, please.]

He blinked again. He stared. And then he cleared his throat and turned to put the order into the computer. "Por supuesto, señora." [Of course, ma'am.]

She murmured her thanks again and finally left. She escaped to the safety of her hotel room except . . . it wasn't exactly safety, was it? The smell of saltwater pressed into her lungs, begging her to relax, to unwind. But she couldn't. She just couldn't. Her skin itched beneath the heavy layers of makeup hiding her scars and her identity and her wig kept making the irritation on her scalp worse and worse and worse.

_"Tell me again why you're here and not in Bucharest?"_

Danielle groaned and dropped her bag, slumping down onto the bed. "ARNO, please," she whispered. "Don't do this."

_"Humor me."_

She closed her eyes and threw an arm across her face. "I don't know what he did to me," she whispered.

_"He tried to brainwash you with the chair. I'm pretty sure he failed, Boss."_

"But then why was he so pleased with himself?" Danielle snapped. "Why the hell—"

"¿Señorita Ramsey? Tengo tu comida." [Miss Ramsey? I have your food.]

Danielle sighed and dragged herself up. As ARNO began to say something else, she muttered, "Not now. Please not now." She opened the door, already digging out money as she let the two hotel workers wheel the carts into her room. "Gracias," she said, giving them each their tip and stepping aside to eagerly wait for them to leave. As soon as they did, she shut the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes.

_"Boss—"_

"Don't. Please."

* * *

_"He's running! South exit!"_

Bucky dropped from his position guarding the westernmost exit to the building and started heading that way. He got there just in time to see Rumlow dig his elbow into Natasha's side and get a stinger to the neck in return. Rumlow grunted and fell to one knee. Natasha slammed a knee into his nose and, as he fell to the ground, pointed her gun at him to keep him still. "I wouldn't move if I were you," she said coolly.

Rumlow spat out blood and a tooth and looked up, a snarl twisting his mutilated face. "You wouldn't."

Bucky aimed his gun at him and watched out of the corner of his eye as the others arrived and mostly did the same. Tony lifted his hand and the repulsor on his palm started humming. "Don't test me," the Stark said, the modulator taking out the exhaustion Bucky knew was in his voice and replacing it with robotic coldness.

Rumlow's gaze flicked between them all and his snarl shifted into a grin. "What? She's really worth all _this?"_ He gestured to them all and their grips on their weapons tightened. He paused and carefully lowered his hand. "Alright. No need to get trigger happy, here."

"On the contrary," Clint grit out. "Where is she?"

Rumlow scoffed. "Hell if I know. You think I haven't been trying to figure that out? After all the work I just put into her?"

Clint's expression tightened. "What did you do to her?" he asked, the harshness in his voice just barely suppressing the trembling to his words.

"Did you know the chair doesn't work on her? God, we tried. Over and over and over. Nothing. Well . . . ." His grin turned a touch feral. "Nothing but her screams. It's a painful process. You remember that at least, don't you, Soldat?"

Bucky growled and didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Of course, even if you do remember, you probably haven't shared that information, have you. I mean, how much have you actually told them? About what you did?" Rumlow cocked his head to the side, but not far. His burned skin pulled like it wouldn't let him go farther. "Do they know you're the one who dragged her off to Hyrda in the first place?"

Bucky's expression twisted and he stepped forward. Rumlow took the opportunity and rolled, yanking Bucky's foot out from under him as he went. And then a flash bomb went off, leaving them with burned eyes and ringing ears. By the time that cleared, Rumlow was far ahead, on the run.

"Form thirteen!" Steve yelled as he took off.

Bucky ran to the left, diverging from the others as he chased their target down. He could just barely see Rumlow before he disappeared around a turn. "He's heading east!"

 _"He's aiming for a high population concentration. We have to stop him before he gets there,"_ Steve said. _"No civilian crossfire."_

 _"Catching up,"_ Clint announced. _"Gotcha, ya bas—"_ His com cut out.

 _"Hawkeye? Hawkeye, respond. Hawkeye!"_ Steve swore loudly. _"Anyone have eyes on them?"_

A chorus of nos answered him. Natasha cut in, saying, _"Assuming they're engaged?"_

_"That's our best choice for now. We need to give Hawkeye backup."_

And then they heard a gun, both cutting through the air itself as well as through their coms. It was silent for a moment, and then Bucky turned a sharp angle and found them just several of the others were. Clint was standing over Rumlow, gun in hand as he impassively stared down at the hole drilled through the body's head. He looked up. "He was resisting." He said the statement casually enough that it was achingly hard to believe him.

"He could have had more information," Steve growled out, crouching down to futilely check for any remaining signs of life.

Clint said nothing for a long moment. Then he said, "I'd do it again. I won't apologize for that."

Bucky glanced away, his satisfaction at Rumlow's death fighting with the regret that he hadn't been the one to do it. He frowned. "Where's Tony?"

 _"Bringing the quinjet around,"_ Tony's voice said over their coms. But now, the exhaustion in his voice seemed far more than just physical. _"Ready to load?"_

* * *

Although she knew that the others in the building were fearful of the storm—she could hear the frantic pattering of their hearts beneath the roaring thunder of the maelstrom—she wasn't afraid. Danielle tilted her face up towards the sky and closed her eyes, focusing on the harsh coldness of the pelting rain against her skin. There was something comforting about the total lack of control. The knowledge that the storm could sweep her away at any moment.

That was an illusion, of course. She knew that in many ways she had more control that she liked. But it was a soft illusion, and she would live in it as long as she could.

It was the crying that shattered her comfort.

Danielle opened her eyes against the storm and looked out towards where the sound had come from. When she didn't see anything, she stood and glanced around for a moment—part of her said that was pointless, because who would be crazy enough to be out in this weather?—before she flickered away, closer to the sound. She landed on a rooftop and peered down.

There was a car in a flooded ditch. There was someone in the drivers' seat, and it looked like she was talking. But Danielle couldn't hear her over the storm and the wails.

But she could hear the creaking of the telephone pole.

She acted before she'd even fully thought it through. She flickered infront of the car, dug her fingers through the metal as she grabbed it, and swung the entire thing out of the way right before the pole crashed down into the ditch. And she was left holding a whole car a foot off the ground, identity bare without her wig or makeup, and being stared at by the family in the vehicle.

Her heart stopped. It wasn't the first time her heart had stopped, of course, but somehow this felt worse. She dropped the car more harshly than she needed too. The crying started again. "Shit, sorry!" She could see in the backseat at the child that was clutching his arm to his chest as she sobbed. It was twisted wrong. Broken, then. At least that explained why they were out driving in this storm.

She's already done a lot of damage to her hidden identity. What did a little more matter? She flickered to the back door and opened it. "Hey," she said, trying to keep her voice soft but knowing that she had to pitch its volume over the roar of the storm. "Puedo ayudar." [I can help]. She reached out a hand to the kid.

The mother let out a shaky breath, as if she was still struggling to come to terms with the situation. The child in the front seat stared at her with wide eyes. "¿Eres un superhéroe?" [Are you a superhero?]she whispered.

Danielle glanced at her. "No lo sé," she admitted. "Pero yo puedo ayudar. ¿Me dejarás ayudar?" [I don't know. But I can help. Will you let me help?]

The boy sniffled, still holding his arm against his chest. He nodded cautiously.

"Okay, okay." She ducked fully into the car and the door slammed shut in the wind behind her. "Va a doler un poco, pero será mejor. Lo prometo. Aquí." [It's going to hurt just a little, but it'll be better. I promise. Here.] She took his unhurt hand and had him hold on to her fingers. "Aprieta tan fuerte como puedas, ¿de acuerdo?" [Squeeze as hard as you can, okay?] Then she slipped off one arm of her jacket and twisted it around to lift it up towards his mouth. "Y muerde esto." [And bite down on this.]

He hiccuped out another sob and then did as she said. Danielle glanced briefly at the shell-shocked mother and then took his broken forearm in her free hand. He let out a little cry through the jacket and she soothed him with a low hum. Tesseract energy spread through his skin, warming his arm as she took stock of the situation. Just a clean break, then. Easy. She wrapped tendrils around the two edges of bone. "Es rapido," [It's quick.] she promised again. And then she snapped the two pieces back against each other and let the energy seep between them to bind them together.

The boy screamed through the jacket and his grip on her fingers tightened. But the sound quickly trailed off into nothing but quiet whimpers. Danielle pulled her hand back and gently took her jacket from his mouth. "¿Mejor?" [Better?]

Eyes wide, he nodded.

"¿Quién eres tú?" [Who are you?]

Danielle glanced at the mother, who had finally spoken. Instead of answering that, she said, "Va a estar bien, pero entiendo si todavía quieres llevarlo al hospital." [He going to be okay, but I understand if you want to still get him to the hospital.]

The mother swallowed and nodded. "Por favor," [Please.] she choked out.

"Por supuesto." [Of course.]

* * *

It was the first time he'd seen Tony since they'd gotten off the quinjet after chasing Rumlow, but not for a lack of trying. For the last two days, he'd been doing nothing but trying. But Tony was smart, and he had JARVIS on his side, so it was easy for him to evade Bucky's attempts.

So Bucky hadn't expected to see him accidentally when Tony stumbled into the common area at three in the morning, looking for coffee while Bucky was hunched over a computer and stacks of information about Danielle's possible whereabouts. He and Clint were continuing to check in on the Bucharest coffee shop, but she wasn't there yet, if she was ever going to be there at all. And so he'd been searching desperately for any other clue for where she might possibly be. He was clicking through security stills from a library in Dubai when he heard the coffee mug shatter.

Bucky jumped, looking up and finally realizing he wasn't alone. Tony was staring at him in a half-daze, too exhausted to even notice the broken ceramic at his feet. Bucky straightened. "Tony."

Tony flinched.

Bucky quickly backtracked. "Stark," he corrected. "I—" He hesitated, watching the way that Tony was clearly ready to flee at a moment's notice. "We should work together to find her, first. Then we can go back to you hating me."

"It's, it's not— I don't know if I hate you."

Bucky couldn't hold back his scoff. "Coulda fooled me."

Tony scowled and moved to take a step forward. He stopped as soon as he realized he was about to step barefoot onto the ceramic. He stepped back again. "I just . . . want to know why the hell this, why— Just, I keep learning about all this stuff that she hasn't— You two have hidden stuff. And I just want to know what's going on with my daughter. So I can protect her. Though I've been doing a . . . pretty shit job there, aren't I?" His scowl turned into an angry expression, though Bucky felt it was directed inward instead of at him.

"I know the feeling," Bucky murmured.

Tony looked ready to argue, but instead he sighed. His shoulders slumped.

Bucky glanced down at his papers and hesitated. "I— There's other things, but Nell should be the one to tell you those when she feels she can. There's just, just one that I should be responsible for telling you right now." He looked up and stared Tony down. "Just promise that you'll wait to hate me until after she's home."

Tony's gaze narrowed. "I doubt anything could be worse than _you_ having been the one to take her away in the first place."

Bucky swallowed. "I— It's why we left. I, I didn't feel I could—" He cleared his throat. "Look at you, I guess. Knowing that I'd done. Once, once I remembered it."

Tony cautiously stepped around the broken mug and busied himself with getting a different mug and finally starting the coffee maker. "Just spit it out."

"What happened to your parents was my fault."

He stopped, one hand on the machine as he stared at the cabinet in front of him, his back to Bucky.

"I didn't remember when I came here originally. I— It felt wrong, living here and knowing that I'd done that."

Tony lowered his hand and drummed his fingers against the counter. "Why? Hydra had you . . . ."

"Kill them?"

Tony flinched and finally turned to face him. His expression was blank, but his eyes were sharp. It was how Bucky had seen Danielle look countless times when she was working on a problem. The Stark's eyes narrowed. "But why?"

"I— I'm not sure. I had to get something from the trunk of the car. That's all I know."

"And my mom? You killed her too?"

Bucky didn't want to, but he forced himself to meet Tony's eyes. The man deserved that, at least. "Yeah," he rasped. "I did."

Tony was gone. He was out the door, away from Bucky, before he'd even finished talking. Bucky groaned and dropped his head into his hands. And he was alone with nothing but the quiet hum of the coffee maker.

* * *

She said nothing as he stopped next to where she was sitting on the end of the docks, staring out across the night's ocean. Part of her hoped that he'd leave, that he wouldn't say anything, that he would politely ignore her presence just like everyone else in the village had done over the past week.

She should have known that was too much to hope for."Might I have a word, Miss Stark?"

The English caught her off guard, but she couldn't stop her sigh. "I guess this whole get up is pointless, huh?" She tugged uselessly at her wig. "The entire town know?"

"They do. But . . . it's been kept quiet. You shouldn't worry."

She finally glanced up at him. She recognized him as one of the older fishermen she'd see around. "Oh? Why's that?"

"You don't come to a place this small and remote unless you have something you're wanting to get away from." He looked out at the water. "Besides, you've done nothing here to hurt us. On the contrary, even. Andrea is quite thankful, I know that."

"Glad to hear it," Danielle murmured. "I thought you were going to ask me to leave. At the very least, I thought someone would have let my location leak."

"You deserve to be left alone." He paused. "If that's what you want."

His phrasing made her pause. "It is," she murmured.

"If you say so. But for someone who's chosen to be here, you sure do spend a lot of time looking like you'd rather be somewhere else." The deck creaked as he turned. "But if this is really where you want to stay, then we won't complain, Miss Stark."

Danielle dropped her gaze down to her hands as he walked away. Her chest hurt.

_"He's got a point."_

"ARNO, please," she whispered. "Not now."

* * *

"Thanks for the coffee."

Just like the night before, Bucky was surprised to find himself suddenly not alone on the common floor. He blinked tiredly and looked up to find Tony standing in front of the table. "What?" he rasped out blankly, still unsure of what had been said.

"The coffee. Last night. Outside my door. JARVIS said you left it for me." Now, Tony was cradling another cup of coffee as he sat down. He was looking everywhere but at Bucky. "I . . . might hate you. I have no idea. But . . . I do know that you want to find Dani too. And, and that's more important right now. So . . . ." He cleared his throat. "Do you want help?"

"I— Yes. I'm still hoping she'll show up in Bucharest. If she does, one of Clint's contacts will let us know. But until then—"

"Wait, Bucharest? Why, why Bucharest?"

"Because that's . . . that's where we're supposed to meet if we get separated. But she hasn't been there. And if I'm there waiting for her, I don't have the resources to look for her that I have here."

Tony stared down at the papers scattered across the table. "You do if I have anything to say about it."


	17. Tomorrow (no mistakes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes from Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery.

"Îmi pare rău că am luat atât de mult." [I'm sorry for taking so long.]

Bucky jerked, head snapping up from where he'd been tiredly bowed over his empty coffee cup. Everything in him screamed to get to his feet, to grab her to make sure that she was real, that she wouldn't be leaving again. But he kept himself still, knowing that he shouldn't draw attention. "Nell," he breathed. "Thank god."

She smiled faintly, exhaustion clear in the bags under her eyes, visible even past the makeup that was hiding her scars and identity. She peered at him from behind purple bangs, gaze a little unfocused. "I . . . don't have a real excuse beyond just being scared. So I'm sorry."

"You're here. Now."

"I am. Um." She shifted and then nervously sat down, clutching her own coffee cup. "Were you waiting for me . . . long?"

He sighed. "Well, we've been looking for you for a bit. Barton and I'd been checking in here for a while, but I've been here consistently for a week now."

Her gaze dropped. "I'm sorry."

He studied her for a long moment. "Do you . . . want to go home?"

Then her gaze snapped to him and he could properly see the tears welling there. "Please," she gasped out. "Please. I wanna go home."

"Okay." He reached out and took her cup from her, setting it off to the side with his own. "Let's go, then. Your dad and I have been working out of a modded quinjet, so we're ready to go."

"Dad's here?" she rasped. "Is he—"

"He just wants you to be safe."

"Is— Does he . . . . Um."

"He knows about, well, me. And what I did." Bucky shrugged. "I wouldn't say he's okay with it, but I think he cares more about loving you than he does about hating me."

Danielle nodded. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay, let's go."

He nodded and got to his feet, holding a hand out to her. She took it and let him help her up and then keep her close to his side. She didn't say anything as they walked, just holding on to him tightly as if letting go would mean he would disappear. She ducked her head down against the bright light outside and trusted him to lead her safely.

Finally, they exited town and it was just a bit farther. When they got to the quinjet, the ramp was already lowering. Tony stood there, desperately waiting. "Dani," he breathed when he saw her, as if he still wasn't quite sure that he believed what he was seeing.

Danielle stared back. Then her voice shook as she spoke. "Daddy. I, I, I'm sorry for—"

He was down the ramp before she could finish her sentence, already pulling her into his arms. "You're okay. God, you're—" His grip on her was tight. "Thank you," he whispered. And then he pulled back, framing her face with his hands as he studied her. "You _are_ okay, right?"

"I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry for not coming home sooner."

"That's okay," he gasped out. "That's okay. You're here now. You're— God. I love you. You know that, right? I love you."

"I know," she choked out. "Can, can we go home?"

"I— Of course. C'mon." He turned, arm tight around her, and led her up the quinjet. "Go ahead and sit down. I'll get us going." Tony hesitated for a long moment, not releasing her.

Bucky stopped next to them. "Stark," he murmured. "She's not going anywhere."

"Right." Tony finally let go of her and forced himself to step back, taking a deep breath. Then he turned and went to the cockpit.

Bucky immediately wound an arm around Danielle's waist and led her over to one of the benches along the quinjet's wall. He had her sit down. Then he turned away and began going through the supplies box on the wall. "What happened?"

"Rumlow's group attacked me in China. They had civilian hostages."

"That's how they got you," he concluded.

She winced. "Yeah . . . . I didn't want anyone else to die because of me. I'm so . . . I'm so tired of that."

He just nodded. He finished gathering things from the box and sat down, a selection of snacks and drinks in his arms.

Danielle stared at the options and carefully selected a bottle of water and handful of granola bars. "Someone out there is selling tranqs, adventising them as strong enough to take down Captain America. I, I almost got away, and that's how I found out that they're strong enough to take down me, too. I—" She took a long, shaky breath. "I don't know what he did to me," she whispered. "He tried the chair and it, it didn't work. And then I don't remember what—" Danielle shook her head. "He had the doctor with him do something. They had a deal, and apparently Rumlow got what he wanted, because then he let the doctor study me. But I don't know what Rumlow _did."_

"Rumlow's dead. He won't get you again."

Danielle looked up to find Tony standing in front of them, arms crossed and his expression pulled taut at Rumlow's name. He swallowed and repeated himself. "Rumlow's dead."

"Thank god," she breathed. "How—"

"Clint shot him," Bucky interrupted. "Just wanted him off the face of the Earth, if his motivation was anything like what I think." He reached out and opened one of her granola bars. "Eat. You can sleep when we get home. You look exhausted."

Another shaky breath. "You have no idea."

* * *

It was night when they got back. The Tower was quiet. Danielle stopped in front of the elevator, not moving. Not even breathing. Just letting the night air chill her skin. Tony put a hand against her shoulder. "Dani?" he whispered.

"I don't want to go to sleep," she mumbled. "Can we— Never mind."

"Don't do that," Bucky said firmly. "What is it?"

"I dunno. Cartoons? I, I don't want to sleep." She did her best not to sound terrified as she said it, but she could tell from their expressions that she didn't do as well as she would have liked. She rushed to smooth it over. "I want to take a shower. Maybe I'll feel better and I can— I don't know. Maybe—"

Tony nodded. "Of course. Cartoons sounds great. Go ahead and take a shower. We'll . . . get some popcorn ready," he said, glancing anxiously at Bucky. Bucky just nodded.

"Okay." Danielle stepped into the elevator. "JARVIS?"

"Danielle. It's good to have you back."

She took a deep breath. "It's good to be back. Um. Common floor."

The elevator doors closed the three of them in and it started to move. Tony cleared his throat. "Clint has said that _Gravity Falls_ is good. Talked about it non-stop a few weeks back."

"Okay. I'd like that." She clenched her hands into fists. Then she forced herself to start the topic. "You know Winter didn't want to kill them, right?"

"Nell," Bucky immediately said, sounding alarmed. "That's—"

"I know," Tony interrupted, voice tense.

Danielle glanced briefly at him, listening to his quick heartbeat. "Do you?"

Tony swallowed loudly and met her gaze. "I do."

She had to force herself to take that answer. She looked away as the door closed. "I'll be up. It won't be too long."

Bucky stepped out. "Alright." He glanced nervously at Tony when he didn't move. "Stark?"

"Right." Tony hesitated just a moment longer before stepping out as well.

"JARVIS," Danielle said. "My room, please." She watched as the doors closed. And then she hesitated. "Actually . . . what's Clint doing right now?"

"Agent Barton is currently asleep." JARVIS paused. "If I may say so, I think he'd appreciate being woken up by your return."

"I want to say hi to him," she said, voice breaking.

"Of course."

The elevator started moving. When it stopped, the doors opened to show only one door across the hall. Danielle stepped out and hesitated again. She clenched her hand into a fist, taking a deep breath.

_"Just knock."_

"Don't rush me, ARNO," she mumbled. "I will."

As it turned out, she didn't need to. A few seconds later, the door slammed open. Clint stood there in a pair of purple sweatpants and an inside-out, backwards t-shirt. He was staring blearily at her. "Sharps?" he asked loudly.

She was about to respond when she realized he was missing the purple behind his ears. Danielle smiled and lifted her hand in a wave. "HI."

"Oh my god." He reached for her. "Come in! Where the hell—"

She shook her head and lifted her hands to sign. "JUST WANTED TO TALK REAL QUICK. DAD AND WINTER WAITING."

"Oh." He blinked and the scratched at his ears. "You're back for good?"

Danielle nodded. She took a deep breath. "THANK YOU FOR KILLING HIM."

Clint stared at her for a long moment. And then his expression tensed and he nodded. "Of course. I'm just sorry I could only kill him once."

Danielle felt her smile crumble a little and she surged forward, throwing her arms around him. His arms immediately jerked up around her, catching her up against him and keeping her safe there. Danielle didn't say anything, just holding on tightly. He held her for a long time. Finally, he shifted back so he could look at her. He grinned and thumbed away her tears. "I'm glad you're back."

She nodded and released him, rubbing her eyes. "Um . . . ." Her hands shook as she tried to sign. "THEY'RE WAITING." Her fingers slipped a bit, the trembling making it difficult to communicate clearly.

Clint just nodded and stepped back. "Go on. I'm, I'm glad you're back, Sharps."

Danielle nodded and flickered away.

* * *

"No, no, no, stop. Holy— Have you never made popcorn before?"

"Not since 1939, no," Bucky said dully, stepping back to let Tony take over. "And definitely not in a microwave."

"Jeez, way to make me feel bad about it," Tony muttered, turning the bag the right way and then starting the microwave. "Get some butter out so we can melt it. She like her popcorn dripping."

Bucky nodded and followed those directions. They waited, without speaking, as the popcorn readied in the microwave. And then again as the butter melted. Tony mixed it all together in a bowl and moved past Bucky to the couch. "JARVIS, cue up the cartoon, would you?"

"Of course, sir."

"ETA for Dani?"

"I'm here," Danielle said, appearing suddenly in a flicker at the doorway. "Sorry."

Tony cast a smile at her, setting the popcorn down. "Don't. I'm glad you're here." He sat down. "Cartoon is ready."

"Okay," she murmured, moving to where Bucky stood at the edge of the kitchen. She wound her arms around him and tucked her head down against his shoulder. His arms immediately came up to hold her and his face creased with concern.

"Nell?" he asked softly. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Just tired. I don't want to sleep, though."

"Okay," he said carefully. “Okay. Let’s get you sat down with some popcorn then, okay?”

She conceded with a nod and let him guide her over to the couch. He got her settled and Tony passed her the bowl of popcorn. The moment Bucky sat down, she collapsed against his side and didn’t say another word. One episode in and she was already asleep.

Neither of them made to move and the episodes continued to play. Tony was more focused on watching his daughter out of the corner of his eye than actually watching the screen. She'd shifted in her sleep and her face was half-pressed into Bucky's thigh and he was absently combing through her hair with his metal fingers. It took three episodes for him to finally speak.

"I can't hate you. Not when she looks at you like that. Not when you look at her like that."

Bucky paused and it took a moment for his hand to resume movement. "Like what?" he asked. On the surface, he sounded just curious. But Tony could hear the defensive undercurrent to the words, as if he was ready to get angry.

"Like . . . you're water. Or air. Something she needs to live."

"She doesn't need either of those things," he murmured. "Not anymore."

"Just you, then," Tony rasped out. "She used to look at me like that. And . . . and you look at her like you would die for her."

"I would," Bucky said simply. "You look at her like that too."

"And I would," Tony confirmed in return. "And I can't hate you. Not knowing what I do."


End file.
